Cause and Effect: Sunrise
by Faylinn Night
Summary: Settling into the Hamato clan has been hard for Melody throughout January. Some days, it doesn't feel worth it. Others? She doesn't feel she deserves them to begin with. But Donatello's sure her sun will rise, and he isn't the only one who thinks so. #3 [Don/Melody Centric]
1. Sunrise Coffee

**Full Summary:** Settling into the Hamato clan has been hard for Melody throughout January. Some days, it doesn't feel worth it. Others? She doesn't feel she deserves them to begin with. But Donatello's sure her sun will rise, and he isn't the only one who thinks so.  
><strong>Genre:<strong> Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance  
><strong>Rating:<strong> Teen for Mel's and Raph's mouths, as well as some mild sexual insinuations.  
><strong>Universe:<strong> Set after "Hollow Hearts" and "Presence".

** Author's Notes:** Welcome to the new year, dear readers! Honestly, this almost didn't make it's intended date; but I'm sucking up my Flu for a moment and posting. SO I BETTER HEAR FROM YOU PEOPLE! Kidding. But it _would_ be nice. Big Six? :'D

That said, please note this mini-book is centered around Melody and Don, who are essentially married by this point. It's very character-driven, mainly on Melody's part since she has the most growth to work through. So, expect a lot of them. For those who don't know, Melody is a cyborg character introduced in "Hollow Hearts". If you don't read that...things will go over your head. If you don't want to, just know she's done some bad things and Don's her sanity. XD

Now, onward!

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders and Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

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><p><strong>Chapter 01 - Sunrise Coffee<strong>

Hamato Donatello's sneakers sloshed through the slick, running water of a large culvert. He used careful speed to keep his clothes dry—he'd been sick one too many times from carelessness during the winter—and smiled at Melody standing on the culvert's metal ledge. The saturated sunrise from New York's cityscape created a brilliant contrast around her, giving the cyborg's shapely body a glow of yellow-orange that stole his breath when she partially turned towards him. Her half-robotic face was listless, yet Don held his smile, certain she was, in fact, interested in his presence.

"Why are you here?" she questioned monotonously.

"Bringing coffee," the purple-banded Chūnin replied while approaching her side. The culvert was wide enough for both to stand comfortably, so Donny didn't need to mind his movements as he offered the cyborg one of the two mugs he held.

Melody accepted his offer without hesitation or outward intrigue. "By now it is surely cold."

Don chuckled lightly before taking a simultaneous sip with his girlfriend. "Yup, just about," he noted at the cooled temperature of his drink. Still, he drank more, gaze set on the glistening daybreak of the city.

"Why are you here?" Melody repeated—a stern action. "You know I will return shortly."

"Doesn't mean I want you alone," answered Donatello simply. He grinned then side-glanced when he brought the mug to his lips again. The blonde didn't face him, yet he knew the red-tint across her organic left cheek wasn't because of sunlight. "So, what are you thinking about?"

"Your small talk has never worked on me," the woman remarked. Her blunt words accompanied her casual sip of coffee and when she sighed, it left a heavy vapor cloud in the January air.

"And yet I keep trying," Don added coyly.

"Donatello."

The mutant prematurely gulped his next sip of coffee, meeting Melody's fixed expression. "You do this every day, Mel. Morning and night—even before you were…changed."

"Your point?"

"While it's a means of contemplation, it's also an escape."

"I _will_ be back." Irritation replaced listlessness then brightened the cyborg's blue-gray eye as her body twisted.

"To me, yes. To my clan? Not so much." Don's tone and face grew somber when the fire in Melody suddenly died—her means of defense against unwanted emotion. He wouldn't accept such aversion, especially since he already knew the reason for it. "Leo left for his sabbatical yesterday. Sensei's assured us it's for the best. Says there're too many memories in the city and he needs to find something lost on his own."

"I am aware of Splinter's speech," Melody interjected. "I was present."

The Chūnin sent her a strained smile. "From the outskits, yes."

"The outskirts are where I must be."

"So you think. Mel, we've been over this. Twice since Christmas."

"Your brother has left for South America"—the cyborg spoke breathlessly, although any outward signs of anxiety remained hidden under her even expression—"and no one has an idea of when he will return. The reason he must leave at all…is because of me, Donny."

"No; it was because of what _Lombardo_ and _Stephens_ did to him."

"Who brought him to them?"

"If I hadn't of hurt you in the first place, you wouldn't done any of those things." With a brusque sigh, Donatello reached for Melody's full-metal arm with his free hand, his fingertips gently brushing its smooth, chilled surface. "We're both guilty in this case. It was a mess. But…you _can_ be forgiven. Like me."

The blonde let out a 'humph' before returning to her coffee and the yellowing sunrise.

"You don't believe me." Words dejected, the six-foot mutant shoved his hand into the deep side pocket of his stitched parka.

"Speaking with them is…difficult," Mel replied. Don almost swore she shivered, except her black-clad form turned rigid within seconds. "Nia falls into silence. Michelangelo talks on and on about matters I do not understand. While Splinter and Raphael…"

"I did say it would be hard to warm up."

"And I said I would not suck up."

Don sighed. "But you also said you would try."

"And I have been. It's just"—pausing, Melody glanced down at her coffee with a grimace—"I look into their faces and know that, in their hearts, they blame me for him leaving. He'd barely been home two weeks. Now he's gone again."

"Two weeks? Is that all it's been?" Don drew in frigid air, finding the thought surreal since the time felt much longer.

"How could Splinter send him in such a condition?"

The Chūnin blinked at the despondency of his girlfriend's tone then smiled lightly at her sun-lit profile. "Why not ask Sensei? He could give a better account than I could, anyway."

"He—"

"Will speak with you if you _want_ it. You must _want_ it, Mel." Reservations be damned; Don's free hand reached for Melody's organic left shoulder, shoving it sideways so her face had no choice except turn. He was met by a semi-frightened gaze she obviously didn't realize because it remained when his eye ridges knit and his voice strengthened. "Family is working through problems. Not avoiding them. The Lab and this culvert won't help you. You need to speak with my clan."

"Speak of what?" Melody snapped. Well, at least her fire returned; it was a sign of consideration.

"You know what," said Donatello morosely.

"I—I can't bring it up."

"We could do it together."

"That's not the problem."

"Then what is?"

"I know how they'll take it. They'll take it the wrong way."

"Huh?" Don froze with a hand on Mel's broad shoulder. "What do you plan to say?"

"I have no plans for words," the cyborg noted, frank. "I never plan them. In fact, I rarely use them outside of medical journals—unless it's a fight. That's my problem. I say the wrong things, Donny. I'll probably just piss your family off."

Could Don contradict her? No. It took him years to bypass her threats, so he knew she spoke the truth. Especially since she and Raph stood on tumultuous ground. However, he chuckled under the self-conscious reveal and stepped closer to the woman standing four inches shorter than him until the tips of their shoes met.

"Why are you laughing, Damn Mechanic?" she demanded.

He kept an easy gaze and half-formed smirk. "You're cute when you're nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

"Sure."

"I'm _not_!"

"Mel,"—he caught her mis-matched eyes like a spell—"apologizing isn't sucking up."

"Apolo—_me_?" Scoffing, Mel shook her head. "Whatever happened to 'we're both at fault'?"

"So I'll apologize with you."

Donatello spoke his words with such genuine intent it turned the cyborg's glare into wistfulness. A light smile replaced the smirk on his wide mouth, which died when his large hand fell from Melody's shoulder to encircle her waist, drawing her stiff form flush against his parka. The hand with his coffee circled her as well—though a little awkwardly—as the mutant leaned his right cheek alongside the hot flesh of the blonde's left cheek. It thumped lightly with her erratic heartbeat and while the placement of the pulse would be strange to any other, Don knew it was natural for his girlfriend.

"You're tired of being alone, remember?" he whispered into her scarred ear. "You want me. But I come with family. Ignoring them doesn't make them any less such. As messy as it might get, the matter needs addressed. You can't dance around each other forever. Eventually, your force will meet that of another. And by that point it may be a worse outcome."

"I've"—Melody sounded lost under Don's breath—"tried."

"Half-heartedly. Whatever you claim, when it comes to it, you're scared."

"I'm not—" The pressure of Donatello's arms cut of the woman's protest, like the new closeness of their torsos pushed the air from her lungs.

"Yes, you are," he insisted, still soft. "This is the first time you've ever cared what other people think of you. And it _scares_ you."

"That's…not true," Mel grumbled unconvincingly. She buried her face into the crook of her boyfriend's neck as if to avoid the topic somehow—one of the few childish habits she's maintained over the years.

Don grinned when she sighed. "Don't be scared. Be Yourself. Be honest."

"Think about that statement."

"Uh…okay, don't be _that_ honest."

"I'll say something they think is wrong and won't even understand," added Mel with a begrudged groan.

"You just got to get used to each other."

"General audiences are strange, Donny. And sensitive to simple facts. I mean"—she blew a puff of heated breath along the mutant's fleece collar, rousing a shiver from him—"how unusual is it to preserve animal tissue samples in the freezer?"

"A…what?" Don drew back so his wrists rested along the woman's collar bones. Eye ridges drawn together, he sent her an inquisitive look, which she seized under—like a kid caught in an act of wrongdoing. The siege lasted only a moment before her emotions cut off and eased her body into nonchalant movement.

"It was a rat," she said with a dismissive wave of her robotic hand.  
>"Well, part of one. I left that knowledge out when Michelangelo found it beside the ice cream, though."<p>

"You put a rat in our _freezer_?" Donny asked near disbelief.

"Just overnight."

"A _rat_?"

"There is no other life abundant in the sewers. And I need tissue samples to work with."

"Aw, Mel." Don's head and arms fell, his face scrunched as if in pain.

'_I can't believe Mikey didn't tell me as soon as it happened,_' he thought. '_But I guess he has been trying his best to keep a positive outlook everything—especially Melody. Maybe that's why things went unsaid…_'

"Hence my reasoning for not indulging you about the studies," Melody added when she stepped back. The Chūnin met her sidelong glance and noted a trace of disappointment below the sun's morning shine across her full lips. "You never could stand dissection."

Donatello hummed, saying stiffly, "Yeah, I'd rather dissect a computer. What're you studying anyway?"

The glance turned frontward, although Don already detected the glint in his girlfriend's eyes before the yellow light blinded it.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" he asked with strenuous words.

"I must know more, Donatello," she responded like an automated message.

This gave rise to a sudden anger in the mutant that he couldn't bite back nor control. He gripped the cyborg's arm tightly with his free hand, crying, "Dammit, Mel; you _know_ how I feel about researching Recro12!"

In the bat of an eye, Melody mirrored his glare, though she didn't rip out of her boyfriend's grasp like expected. "If I _don't_,"—she screamed so loud it echoed in the culvert—"something could happen to you or Leonardo! Or even…Kaiya."

The broken tone stopped Don's heart, his glare faltering. He remained silent as Melody's vision dropped to the running water at their feet, and the weight of grim memories hit him like a load of bricks. Even so, he didn't falter in his grip on her or his words when he said to the downcast blonde,

"All the research was lost with Black Lotus."

"Save for the information I recorded in my memory. That is substantial enough for experimentation."

Experimentation; the word left a queasy pit in Donatello's stomach. He wished he could erase it from Melody's vocabulary, yet was aware she didn't mean it like Lombardo or Stephens would. Mel's want to help was honest; he knew that. He also knew she was right.

'_Like she can't avoid my family, I can't avoid this…drug. It's in me and Leo. We need to prepare the best we can for any future setbacks. The way it's escalated with Kaiya means we should..._'

"Fine," Donny started while capturing Melody's surprised gaze, "you make a point. But promise you won't obsess like Lombardo. Ah, ah, ah"—at her opened mouth, he pointed a finger from the hand that held his coffee mug—"no debate. Long term effects may be unknown, but think of what it's done so far. It's saved mine and Kaiya's lives. It's—it's healed three of us fully in what should of taken months."

"Easy for you to say," the blonde countered in familiar attitude. "You didn't watch how many bodies that _thing_ destroyed. You didn't—"

"Mel,"—the mutant lifted his hand to the right side of Melody's neck then ran a ginger thumb over the sensitive line between the metal and flesh down her cheek—"those effects were nearly instantaneous. People died within twenty-four hours, right? But I don't feel sick or strange. I feel…strong, actually."

"It frightens me not knowing," Mel whispered back.

Donny smiled. The pain in her wide, blue eye wasn't funny; it was uplifting. It sent the mutant's heart fluttering, so he didn't fight the strong urge to place his lips against hers. They kissed softly, her form trembling, until Don pulled back to place his forehead against hers.

"Then study it," he said. "Just don't…use it as a means to avoid my family. Okay?"

The kiss left her adorably flustered and she drew a shaky breath, nodding because she couldn't form words. No, she hadn't been convinced fully of what needed to be done. At least it was a start, though.

So Don regained his smile, tugging at her waist with hope, and asked, "Now, will you come home and have tea with Splinter and me?"


	2. Good Morning

**Author's Notes:** Reviews keep me motivated, so, thanks, guys! This chapter is all about Mel. Yes, she's a mess...

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders and Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

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><p><strong>Chapter 02 - <strong>**Good Morning**

Melody Gray kept calm, despite the soft jab of awkwardness that prodded her chest whenever Splinter glanced across the dining table set with three cups of tea. Neither of them had spoken a word since Donatello excused himself for the bathroom, and the cyborg found her vision wandering around the Lair's brick structure—to keep from meeting the mutant rat's penetrative eyes through the silence.

"Gray-san," Splinter said. His tone sounded either worrisome or exasperated; Melody couldn't tell which.

"Yes," she replied automatically. Her gaze fell from a pot rack hung from the kitchen ceiling to the stern-faced master, who resituated an ornate, South American shawl over his sloped shoulders.

"You may speak."

What peculiar words. The blonde's head cocked at them as she racked her brain for their meaning. Did she need permission? Surely not. Everyone possessed the freedom of speech in the USA. So was it a simple reiterating? Why? She knew she could speak.

"I have called on you several times," Splinter continued—notably darker before he sipped his tea—"yet you always hide."

Hide? Her? No. But maybe her face said otherwise because the master's features eased into a haunted expression.

"You may fear what I have to say, Gray-san. However, I believe it is a talk we must have."

Melody remained unblinking, answering, "Is that why you said I could? To make me feel as if the choice were my own?"

"It will always be your choice," the furry mutant countered. "But know—"

"It would please Donatello if I did. Correct?"

"Yes…"

Mel lightly huffed while the rat pursed his mouth. "Rare people have an interest in what I have to say."

"Well, we _are_ among the rarest on Earth, Gray-san."

She kept quiet under that truth, averting her gaze for some reason or another. How could one small mutant unnerve her almost as strongly as Don's loving glances could? It wasn't right. She was the one to unnerve others—not the other way around. In fact, she felt a slight burn of anger in her chest as she raised her chin with pride, meeting Splinter's gray face.

"People often say things they do not mean," she started, even. "Or perhaps they do mean it, yet change their mind soon afterwards. Either way, they have never taken kindly to my nature. Donatello is…an anomaly. Who I am thankful for. However, you may change your opinion like so many others."

"I have not changed it yet, Gray-san," Splinter remarked.

Mel didn't understand how he could regard her so casually, like her cynicism was something to be taken in stride, and stiffened in her seat. "I am not the kind to please."

"We expect nothing of the sort."

"Then what do you expect?"

"Truth."

"I always give truth," the cyborg grumbled.

"So why hide it?" Splinter immediately questioned. With a soft scratch across the concrete, the master leaned his chin atop his paws on his upright cane, peering.

"Because I do not wish to disappoint Donatello."

The frank statement widened the rat's eyes a fraction. "Disappoint?"

"He has such hopes that I can befriend his family. However…friends have never been my forté ."

"Perhaps not willingly."

Mel narrowed her organic eye. "What do you mean?"

"You have allies, Melody Gray—even when you feel otherwise. Your squad members, Tabitha Fall and Sven Nass, were quick to turn to you for aid when the true danger of your situation was revealed. This shows they trust you; trust enough to lay their lives in your hands."

"I only told Donatello of that," remarked Mel under her breath. Speaking of, where was he?

"He speaks of you fondly," Splinter added to regain the blonde's attention from the staircase beside the bathroom.

"Then maybe he should speak _less_."

"His intent was not to break the confidentiality you two share as couple."

Melody scowled at the closed bathroom door, half tempted to break it down. "No," she said smoothly yet bitterly, "he just means to meddle."

There was a weak sigh from Splinter. "Families meddle, Gray-san. They meddle and mediate, usually with good intents. Like Donatello."

"I don't _need_ Donny to plead my case before you like I'm some kind of scared animal in need of shelter!" The fire burned quick through the cyborg—through her tone, limbs, and eyes. She rose from her seat violently with a bang against the wooden tabletop and her teeth ground at the thought how much information her lover had disclosed.

Rather than react with disgust or surprise, Splinter lifted his chin with the upmost control of a tempered soul. "You are _no_ animal in the clan's eyes, Melody. Perhaps years on the streets have drilled a single outlook into your mind. It tells you everyone sees you as below them, a burden, a 'dog of society'. It also tells you to erect a wall to keep the hurt out. However, you are no dog and your wall is effective against positive emotions as well.

"Donatello loves you. He fought jealously against all accusations and never once gave up faith in you. He would not do this for a vain, selfish, disreputable woman. He only wants us to understand what he sees since the rest of us are cast in the shadow of your wall."

"My wall is what's kept me alive this long," the cyborg countered, unfiltered.

"So you must build a gate for it, to let in the necessary good."

"Or weaken its integrity." She glared at him, though maddening sympathy crossed his dark eyes.

"Gray-san….have you had a family before?"

The question sunk like a bag of sand in the woman's stomach, so her lips pressed shut, despite a blazing want to retort.

"He has not told us much of your past; he says it is your place. So, tell me, have you had a family before?"

Slowly, begrudgingly, Melody sunk into her wooden seat. Pain from a passing memory of a white-haired woman stabbed her chest, yet the light prickle in her eye didn't betray her. She wouldn't let it.

"I had a mother named Gray," she admitted.

"Gray?"

"Yes."

"Was such her last name or first?"

"Her only name." Melody maintained a stoic expression under the quirk of the rat's wild eyebrow, saying calmly, "She had no identity. No one knew where she journeyed from. And Gray is what she called herself."

"She never spoke to you of her past?" Splinter questioned, as if some similarity existed between her and her mother.

"She had no past to tell."

"Everyone has a past."

"Except for when you forget it. Or your mind is broken."

"Broken how?"

It wasn't a thought Melody liked to revisit, but regardless of its sting, she collected her breath and steeled her gaze. "She had dementia as a result of a brain tumor. It spread slowly through her years with me. I never knew how…odd her behavior was when compared to others until my judgment skills sharpened. I was seven when I realized her loss of balance, slurred speech, and twitches were unnatural."

"That is astute for someone so young," remarked Splinter with a tinge of somberness and praise.

Against her will, Melody's vision fell to the cooled tea cup set before her. "No choice; when you grow up on the streets, it can mean the difference between life and death."

"That is an unfortunate reality." The way he spoke convinced Mel that the mutant understood quite well. "I mean no offence when I ask, how did Gray-san bear and raise you if she was so ill?"

"She never bore me. She…adopted me. Through her and a few others in the homeless community, I was raised remarkably healthy. Underfed and a bit weak, of course, but alive."

"What means of adoption could she partake in with no identity?"

Better judgment warded the blonde against glancing up; she didn't listen.

"Gray-san _kidnapped_ you?"

"She _saved_ me," Melody snapped at the wide-eyed master. "And I tried desperately to return the favor. Carlos and Fry, who knew her before I came along, used to call me her 'medicine'. They said I was the one thing on Earth to keep her grounded. By the time I was ten, I could see what they meant. I was her sanity through her sickness. And I _tried_ to save her."

"How?" Quick, curious, Splinter's ears twitched upwards.

"Self-taught medical knowledge."

The statement should've roused enough disbelief for a scoff, yet the mutant sent encouragement with a single look.

"Expectedly, my mother had no insurance or means of consultation with a physician. So, I began learning at the age of ten. I scrounged open sources, tossed medical books, and any library I could steal from. I poured myself over the information, obsessed over it, convinced I could find a treatable means.

"It was a kid's dream, in retrospect. I did not have the right equipment or sanitary grounds, and she—she died of a severe brain aneurysm shortly after my diagnosis of her…"

"I am sorry for your loss."

Melody repressed a huff. The rat didn't know her and he surely didn't know her mother either. How could he feel sorry? The cyborg lightly shook her head then crossed her arms over her ample chest, reclining in her seat so she could glare at Splinter's unreadable expression with her chin tilted up.

"I was twelve. Since then, I have taken care of myself."

"Yet you had the homeless community, right?"

A chilling jolt shot beneath the metal of Mel's body. "The two closest men to raise me alongside my mother were killed by gangsters. One for fun and the other for chump change."

"Gray-san,"—Splinter spoke wanly, which forced Melody's teeth to grind—"has tragedy kept you from seeking a family?"

"I learned from it," replied Mel heatedly. "What's the point of forming attachments if life is so keen on severing them?"

"Attachments are what create life. It gives and takes. We are subject to it and must take solace in knowing bad can bring about good. _If_ we open our hearts to the change."

Melody rose swiftly to slam both her metal palms against the tabletop, causing the tea cups to rattle then tip. "If? You just said we were subject to it, which means life's unbiased. Whether I 'opened' my heart or not wouldn't have made a difference. I would still be looked down on. I would _still_ be ridiculed. And I would _still_ have to watch higher society wear on the people who honestly need help! How would a family have helped _that_?"

"In the same way you helped your mother."

The blonde reeled at the soft words, her glare faltering when Splinter calmly reached over the table. With startled eyes, she watched his bony paws as he set the cups upright.

"Just as family is work, it is also sanity. It is companionship, trust, faith, love. It is knowing you are not alone, even when you are—because you are a unit. And it lends strength in the most troubling of times."

"Well, those troubling times were constant," Mel added under her breath. Her hands scratched the table's wooden surface before they formed fists, yet she glanced at them only for a moment then met Splinter's eyes.

"It can be a shock to transition from a solitary life to a family one, but know we are always there for one another. No matter what."

"If that's the case, then why did you send Leonardo away?" The words slipped like oil from Melody's thick lips and they were lit by the sudden fire behind Splinter's dark gaze. "Shouldn't you be coddling him? Monitoring his PTSD? What if a startling sound from the plane sets him off and he falls out of the plane's undercarriage in panic?"

"Leonardo and I have spoken about this," Splinter said through his cracking composure. "Donatello has given him a supply of natural stress relievers and during the week before he left, we meditated. In complete silence, yes, but unsaid support is as impactful as any."

"Still doesn't explain why a so-called 'close family' would ship him off!"

"Should you see this as a means of avoiding responsibilities for the aftermath inflicted by the company _you_ chose to follow then you are _mistaken_, Gray-san."

So, the truth came out. Melody found the master's sharp voice, clenched paws on his cane, and twitching tail unsurprising. A façade of diplomacy could only last so long and she'd known from the start how he was bitter about the situation. Just like Michelangelo, Raphael, and Nia.

"I'm the reason," she noted—a soft, hoarse action. In seconds her throat dried, causing her to pause. "He can't be with you because of me."

"It is for many reasons, Gray-san. He—"

"Stop with the politically correct crap!"

At Mel's fierce scowl and slam of hand, Splinter squared his shoulders.

"Say it," the blonde hissed while leaning down to his eye level. "Say what everyone else is feeling. I shouldn't have a place here. How can I belong after what I've done? I—I don't _deserve_ your family."

"Okay, Melody, the talk is over."

The cyborg felt her lover's grip on her organic bicep before she met his brown gaze. Lividness roused in her muscles—over his abandonment of her—and an unexplained fear propelled her backwards when the downtrodden face of Leonardo replaced Donatello's like a ghost image. She broke their connection with a startled cry, glancing between the Hamato males from several feet away. No words left her, though; her breath grew short under their pensive stares, so she turned towards the Lair entrance.

"Mel, wait!" Don called behind her retreating figure.

At the couch, she almost did. Except her tightened chest over the thought of another flashback kept her moving. Michelangelo neared her side from some place unknown. His trained smile was given little consideration before their shoulders bumped and she activated the Lair's lever system

"Well, good morning to you too," the youngest Hamato chided. Whatever he had to say towards Don next grew garbled since the blonde directed all energy to her legs, willingly them to lead her away from the hurt.


	3. So Shamefaced

**Author's Notes:** It ain't easy being Mel. So many up and downs. XP Anyways, this is my last chapter until _NEXT FRIDAY_ then _SATURDAY_. Think of this like the release of a TV series, lol. R&R! :D

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders and Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

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><p><strong>Chapter 03 - <strong>**So Shamefaced**

Donatello could barely meet April's stare; it was pointed with disbelief from beyond the coffee table in her two-story apartment.

"You lost your girlfriend?" she questioned carefully while handing over a fresh mug of coffee.

"I didn't _lose_ her," Don countered, indignant. He accepted the savory offer then blanched when the redhead arched a brow. "Okay, I did. But it's only been a day."

"What happened?" Expression wiry, the human side-stepped until her shin hit the couch then took a seat.

Though the genius followed suit on the couch's other end, it was done with hesitance, which dropped his vision to his coffee cup. "She kinda…fought with Splinter," he grumbled into its gray rim before sipping.

"What?" April's small squeal was expected and Don sighed when she added, "What kind of fight?"

"Nothing physical," the male all but snapped. The redhead glared at the statement's sharpness, yet remained quiet since Donny flashed an apologetic look. "Sorry, Ape," he noted far softer. "Guess I'm a bit sensitive about everyone's negative outlook on her."

"It's not without reason." April kept a calm disposition; that didn't mean Don was blind to the loathing festering behind her dark green eyes.

"That said, I wanted to give them a chance to talk one on one," he continued, meeting the reserved hate. "I set them up then excused myself."

"To eavesdrop?"

"Hey, I'm a ninja," the mutant retorted against the woman's bland tone. "It was going well. Until Leo was brought up."

There was an unchecked scoff just as April sipped her coffee. "Of course that would be a sore spot—especially for Splinter."

Next, she flicked her wrist dismissively and such callousness tightened Donatello's chest. An indisputable rage raised suddenly in him. Its bite nearly roused a smart comeback, yet the genius tempered it, knowing full-well April had a right to her feelings. Even if he didn't find them agreeable.

"Not just for him; Mel too," he said, controlled with his thick fingers clenched around his warm mug.

April part-way choked on her following sip of coffee, like he had proclaimed some sort of revelation. Recovering, she composed herself on the couch cushion then sent an inquisitive look that felt skeptical.

"It's hard to explain," added Don gravely. "Sh—she claims it doesn't bother her, but then she does _things_."

The redhead raised a brow before her mug lowered onto her jeans. "What kind of things?"

"Like acting guilty. She's not used to it. And I don't think she knows how to handle it."

"She's never felt guilty about anything?" Patronizing in her tone, April's face grew stony.

Donny shrugged. "Very rarely in the time I've known her. There's never been a case this bad, though."

"Have you tried talking to her about it?"

"Yes; she shuts me out. Like Leo does. Which is why it'll take more than me to get her through this…"

"Is that why you're here, Don?"

April questioned Donatello frankly, tartly. A wave of annoyance washed over her pale features then darkened under intense abhorrence, which she maintained only by clenching her jaw. The Chūnin was perfectly aware of the lividness she harbored over what conspired throughout December. Still, part of him had hoped his best friend would at least come to terms with his partner.

"I know you aren't comfortable with her, April," he remarked, bleak with disappointment.

"That's an understatement," she shot back like a bullet.

But Don pushed her negativity off his mind so he could steel his voice, "April, please, help me help her."

"What do you think I can do?"

"I—I'm not sure," said Don softly with a sinking heart and gaze. "Honestly, I see you two butting heads on normal terms, let alone with how things turned out. Even so, I need help…she needs to experience firsthand what a family does for one another. And know she doesn't have to live with guilt."

"She _doesn't_?"

Donny's lifted his head to cock it as he sent the glaring redhead a look. "April."

"Sorry, Don"—her tone emanated contrary to her words—"I can't think of anything."

"Guess it's a little early to ask such things of anyone," Donatello muttered with a long sigh. His hung head brought his nose close to the near-full cup of coffee he held. The brown richness had lost appeal, though, so he set it on the table and stood swiftly before his stomach soured any further. "Forgive me for barging in here with this topic."

The redhead glanced up from the couch, saying solemnly, "It's okay; you're lost, Don. You deal with machines, not women. But I have no advice to give. Not now."

"She _is_ someone worth forgiving," retorted Don.

"I'm sure you think so."

"No. She _is_. Give her time, you'll see."

"Whatever you say, Donny." Straight-faced, April sat back in her plush sofa seat with her arms crossed in a manner that spoke volumes to Don's frown.

The Chūnin straightened his tall form, meeting her green eyes sternly. "I refer to Mel's true character when I speak of her—the side none of you have seen yet. Hell, she took Leo, yet I don't blame her for it. I _can't_. If you want to be mad then punish me and her together. Because we're a couple now and we were _both_ at fault."

"Don—" April closed her mouth when Don's hand raised.

"It's going to take a while, yes. I've already put four years into knowing her and with what happened, it makes this even more difficult. Regardless, I'll keep working for her. So all I ask is that you try."

"I'll make you a deal: if she comes to me and apologizes—honestly—I'll start considering it."

"Deal." Donatello spoke quick and with full conviction. April reeled slightly in surprise—perhaps at his steeled stare or maybe the intensity burning in his chest. Either way, he smiled with confidence. "Mel is full of surprises, believe me. That's why I need to find her…and bring her home."

* * *

><p>The nighttime junkyard was boisterous compared to the past few months. Conversational sounds filled the background, whose voices were unfamiliar to Donatello. Despite this, he used them as a guide through mounds of trash until he spotted a plethora of people in the midst of thick snow and dirt. They huddled around fires lit deep in metal barrels, hardly protected from winter's bite. Yet they gazed joyously at one another's chapped faces.<p>

Don grinned when he caught a glimpse of Ernie, Phil and Star at the crowd's side, near a tall barrier of gutted cars. The thick, older man—donned in dingy layers of clothes—had an arm wrapped protectively around his Neanderthal-like girlfriend. Her loving exspresion lit her face brighter than any flame ever could, and as she leaned into Phil for a long kiss, Don suddenly remembered his reason for being out.

So, he skidded down from his precarious perch on a fridge recessed into a high mountain of trash bags. He landed without a sound then continued to a lesser-known part of the junkyard, where light scarcely touched and souls never ventured. When he reached the far back corner surrounded by a tall chain link fence, he stopped by the narrow entrance of a patina-riddled shipping container. It was surrounded by piles of ripped tarps, decayed blankets, cushions, and miscellaneous packing materials on all sides like a cave.

The mutant knew better than to doubt its integrity and didn't bother with a knock or call before passing the weathered quilt hung as a door. Inside smelled musty, a tad bitter, but with so many years under his belt from sewer life, its stench was bearable. And nostalgic. While the atmosphere didn't hold the same anticipation as when Don used to visit with debates at the ready, memories lured him to what should be a couch and old barrel.

"Mel," he said softly. A light shifting sounded at the back—nothing more. "Come on, Mel; I know you're here."

Speaking sterner, Don reached near the blunted edge his calves hit. He felt the coarseness of two match heads on a table and lit one on his wristband after pulling up the sleeve of his parka. The warm light revealed a steel barrel filled with old trash and charred cloths, which the genius set fire to without a second thought. Soon, a soft, orange haze bathed the open-plan area, casting animated shadows against the short, textured walls and drawing Don's eyes to a particularly long shadow at a low cot.

"I thought we agreed you'd stop running," Donny told the blonde cyborg.

Melody kept her arms set on the make-shift cot like a child regaled with fantasy tales; only, her head rested rather than lifted. "You are rather late," she grumbled into her mechanical bicep.

"Had to make a pit stop," the Chūnin replied without missing a beat. Casually, he rounded the barrel until he stood a ways behind his lover. But on the inside, Mel's despondent tone wrenched his gut.

"Where?" she questioned, dead.

"Doesn't matter right now." With a forced smile she didn't notice, Don took a step closer. "I'd rather talk about why you're here."

"Of course."

"Mel—"

"I'll come back, Damn Mechanic. Just…later."

The sudden flare of frustration tensed Melody's form, which gave the mutant a chance to seize her organic shoulder. The bare skin of her sleeveless sweater felt hot against his palm due to the wires layered beneath her skin like a secondary vascular system, so he drew close to her for heat and comfort. At first, she tried shrugging off his touch. It was a half-hearted attempt, though, and she succumbed to his embrace from behind when he kneeled.

"One bump and you've already split?" asked Don gently as his forehead leaned against the base of her skull.

"I told you I'll return," Mel countered under her breath.

"Yet no matter how long you stay away, Splinter won't forget what you said."

"But maybe _I_ will."

"You know you won't." The human sighed, so Don wrapped his arms tighter around her shoulders, leaning them part-way on the cot. "Where do you think you can go?" he whispered. "This isn't your home anymore. Unless you want to throw in the towel on me."

"That's not funny, Donatello." Snappy, the cyborg punched the mutant's thigh now flush to her own.

It stung below his pants, yet he smiled into her neck. "If it isn't then why are you here? It's not an escape either."

"I know—not from my present or past. This very cot is where my mother died, after all…"

"Did talking about her yesterday make you oversensitive?"

Melody ducked her head further. "Partly."

"Leo then?"

"Why are you asking when you know?"

"Because"—Don groaned—"I need you to admit it to yourself, Mel. I can't stand you looking so shamefaced when all you have to do is accept the guilt and fight to make it right."

"Guilt, huh?" The question sounded foreign on Mel's lips, spoken like a reminiscent dream, as if the idea didn't register. "And what if I told you I felt no such thing?"

"What?" Don asked while jerking his head upright to meet the sidelong glance of his girlfriend.

"That is what bothers me," she remarked in all calmness.

"Okay, Mel, I know you went through a lot, but,"—the Chūnin drew a short breath so his surprise and hurt remained manageable—"how can you _not_ feel guilt?"

"I cannot say. Perhaps it is Doctor Stephens' work coming to fruition. His aim was to sever my feelings. Maybe, in time…they'll die altogether."

"No." Donatello's head shook. "You're too full of passion to let a mad man like that kill your spirit. I _know_—I've seen how strong it is. Trust me, no amount of science will _ever_ sever it."

"Then why…why do I feel an emptiness when I think about him?" Melody questioned. Her lost tone was so quiet; had the mutant not been so close, he wouldn't have heard her.

"It's a natural detachment, I think. It makes sense, considering how you deal with guilt in general."

"And just how do you know my means of dealing with guilt?"

Don sniggered—a strained action. "I know more about you than you think."

"Stalker."

The snigger strengthened. "If you truly felt nothing than you wouldn't have ran or got so upset. Leo's a touchy subject, I know, but…you should continue down this road we chose. I said I'd walk it with you and I will."

"Except for when you abandon me for the bathroom."

"That was simple tactic. You needed the push."

"And look what it gained us. Nothing. And I am now assured your father despises me as much as your brothers and sisters do."

"Despise is a strong word. More like they don't know how to handle your presence."

"Few people can handle my presence."

"Because you're strong. Strong enough to be with me, so come home."

"Can I really call it such when those there see me as a killer?"

Don froze under the grim weight of the cyborg's words. A moment later, the tension eased, leaving him free to breathe and suck in the space's musty scent. "Melody…I've already told you things would be messy and running won't clean up anything. You've always stood your ground in a fight. What's so different about this one?"

Mel sighed, saying lowly, "I've never fought a battle with so much at stake before, Donatello. What if…I _do_ get past this guilt issue? What if I am able to act naturally around your family and they honestly _hate_ who I am?"

Laughing wasn't appropriate, but Don couldn't help himself.

"Why do you always laugh at the worst times?" Mel asked, struggling in his embrace. She meant to hit him; except his large hands found hers and pulled them to her toned stomach, where he secured them.

"Because"—he answered in a whisper—"there are so many high points to yourself that you always turn a blind eye to. And I can't understand how when they're so glaring."

"Facing them is hard, Don," she whispered back.

Tenderly, the male kissed the base of Mel's hot neck. "I know. It's hard for me, too; I love all of you and I want nothing more than for everyone to get along."

"Returning…is hard…."

Melody spoke with shuddering words that shook Donatello's bones. The Chūnin shivered then buried his face into the warm crook of the cyborg's organic shoulder, tightening his hug. She leaned into him without a fight and heaved a thick sigh, which seemed like it would've choked her if she hadn't let it go.

"Mel," Don said, "It'll be alright. I promise, no matter what happens, I'll stand by you. And the only way you can disappoint me is if you give in this easily."

"So you _were_ watching," Melody remarked gruffly.

The genius chuckled, only a little nervous. "Yeah."

"Then you can help me when we see each other again."

Donatello didn't have to think about his answer when he said, "I'd love to."


	4. Few Regrets

**Author's Notes:** Well, I was gunna post Friday and Saturday. But since last Sat and Sun were, like, dead, imma try Thursday and Friday instead. This is an all OC chapter, but I hope you enjoy. :)

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders, Melody Gray, George Baker, and Sven and Jakob Nass belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

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><p><strong>Chapter 04 - <strong>**Few Regrets**

Again and again Melody sensed Nia's sidelong glance as they strolled down the busy morning streets of New York City. Not that it was subtle—the black-haired female ran into an irate commuter every time she did so.

"So sorry," Nia told a husky man dressed in a flawless suit. He cursed her, but quickly returned to his phone call and stormed by.

"Why are you so quiet?" Melody asked, monotonous. The cyborg adjusted the hood and thin cloth that hid her robotic features; the constant wind threatened to unravel them and she groaned inwardly at having allowed Michelangelo time to disguise her.

"Sorry," Nia responded.

"Stop saying that."

"Sorry."

Mel narrowed her organic eye at the shorter female.

Nia's head ducked and she averted her gaze frontward. "I—it, uh, didn't seem like you cared what I was talking about, so…"

"Because I did not." Melody's frankness pulled down Nia's shoulders.

"Ah…"

"However, that does not mean you should stop. Don often speaks of mechanics. I find such uninteresting, yet enjoy his talking."

"So," Nia drawled, "does that mean you'd listen to me like you would Don?"

"I cannot stand silence, is all," countered the cyborg, dull with truth. She sensed a smile from the pale young woman, which seemed contrary to the offence that was expected.

"I—I know what you mean. For the longest time I spent hours alone. I—I always played music, though, to keep me from feeling like I was."

"Pre-recorded voices are hardly company."

"Y—yeah. I thought it was enough. Until I met the guys. Now"—Nia's voice grew airy, as if enchanted—"I can't go a day without listening to them; I—it doesn't feel right."

"Which is why you stay up late, despite the early hour you must rise."

"I miss Raph during the day, so we just talk until I fall asleep."

"I do not recall inquiring of Raphael."

There was a squeal then gasp as Nia slid over an ice patch on the sidewalk. "Thanks," she said when the cyborg captured her bicep to keep her steady.

Melody simply grunted her acknowledgement then released the younger female as they rounded a city block.

"I—I guess he's on my mind," Nia said into her crocheted scarf. Her face glowed vibrant red and Melody was certain the cold wasn't to blame. "His insomnia's been pretty constant a—and I feel bad for falling asleep."

"What point would there be in both of you losing sleep? If you had stayed awake, it doesn't not mean Raphael would have been able to sleep."

"That's not the point." Nia replied quickly—with a stern force that stopped her on the crowded sidewalk.

Melody twisted two strides ahead, forcing the busy throng to part around the duo.

"M—maybe you see it differently," the long-haired female continued, soft. "But, for me, it's a way to share Raph's pain. He's had trouble with sleep ever since Leo…We've talked about it this month. I got answers to some of his stress—like July. But the insomnia hasn't eased. So I want him to know I care, that he doesn't have to shoulder the burden alone."

"If you have already told him such then I am sure he knows," Melody countered, not quite understanding the trouble Nia would rather put herself through.

"Sometimes, words aren't enough. It may be different with you and Don. But Raph and I?" Nia flashed a sweet smile. "The deeper emotions are best expressed through actions. You know, now that we're on the same page."

Mel stared blankly as Nia offered a short chuckle. "I find emotions…unreliable."

"Wh—what do you mean?" Chuckle dying, the artist stepped closer, so the two continued down the walkway.

"I can detect fear and anger well," the cyborg started in a didactic tone. "Anything else is lost on me. Take your smile, for instance. For all I know, it could be fake in your attempt to please Donatello. Otherwise, why bring me to work with you?

"Because I—I…" Nia sighed then tucked her hands beneath the pits of her quilt coat, mumbling, "Donny did say she was an extreme rationalist."

The blonde twitched at a pinch of anger, which embittered her voice. "He was speaking of me _again_."

"Only because you won't."

"Meaning he set this up to give me no choice, like with Splinter."

"No,"—the artist's pale face turned serious—"_I_ suggested it."

"Why?" Melody drew her exposed eyebrow towards the hidden, metal piece shaped along her face's right side and studied how suddenly her companion's expression shifted into surprise then stoicness.

"I can't say being with you doesn't make me nervous. Between the stories and aftermath of where you've been, you sound too severe for comfort. A—and it troubles me what Black Lotus did to Leo. Still, you mean a lot to Don, who I promised to stand by. So, i—if you're going to work to make amends, I want to help along the way. Because only then will everyone heal."

"You would be one of few," Mel said without thought. She found a sting in Nia's words, though they were spoken softly, and concentrated on the passing multitude of commuters.

"Y—you may be surprised if you gave them a chance."

"All save for Raphael, perhaps."

"Ah, well…"

There was no refuting such a point, which was why when Mel side-glanced, she noted Nia's downcast expression casually. But once it lifted into a light grin, the casualness gave way to confusion.

"I'll work on him then."

"I require no advocate"

"Then don't consider me such."

"And what should you be considered as?"

"Someone who wants to repay you for saving her life."

In one step, Melody reeled at the brightness of Nia's smile above her scarf. It faced the cyborg for all of a second before its owner drew her teal eyes forward, shrugging her shoulders as the blonde tried making sense of the overwhelming emotions in her chest.

"Don says there's good in you and I've seen it," added Nia. "Y—you've just got to let it show."

"I've never been very skilled with that," Mel muttered, hating how insecurity cracked her low tone.

Thankfully, it went unmentioned before Nia said, "M—me either. Believe it or not, I used to be very cut off, self-centered."

"Then you met the Hamatos."

"Y—yes. Exactly. A—and now I find it addictive."

"The goodness."

Nia gave a firm nod. "Sometimes I get carried away, too. But…it does feel nice."

"Don's said the same thing."

"See? I'm not the only one telling you these things."

Melody fell silent as she and Nia approached the East Harlem Outreach Hotel; she had nothing more to say on the matter and Nia seemed content in having voiced her part. The two young women passed its wooden door entrance, except Mel paused once her boots touched the worn floors inside. Its scuffed texture stretched like a white sea beneath the musty air until corralled by equally as worn brick walls.

It felt big. Or she felt small. Either way, its supposed vastness left her lightheaded with memories of her mother, and focusing on any one feature—whether it be the various globe lighting from repo stores, the low stucco ceiling, or cheap red furniture—was impossible.

"Melody, a—are you okay?"

Blinking, Melody grounded herself to reality like an anvil, glancing down at Nia. "Yes," she answered, though past conversations spun her mind.

"Th—then come on; the mural is this way."

The cyborg followed without a word or nod. She kept calm in an even pace, listening to the faint chatter of early-risers of the Hotel. She avoided glancing at them because of the hot nerves tingling in her limbs.

'_Why am I so unsettled?_' she thought while nearing a tarp towards the back. She shook her head of the thought's silliness then bypassed the tarp into a wide niche after Nia. Inside had a higher ceiling than the hotel's remainder, which gave the mural a grandiose feeling as the cyborg noted its curves and colors. The subject matter, though, is what stole her breath.

"Do you think Mister Baker will like it?" Nia asked.

Melody couldn't find the words, only a prickle in her eye as she spotted one too many familiar faces. A sudden queasiness brought her to a small table as a distraction, its top filled with paint supplies and paper. Her robotic fingers skimmed over the stacks of papers—flyers—absentmindedly.

"O—oh, those are the missing people Mister Baker wanted me to draw. There's over three hundred, so that's why the mural consists mainly of faces. Placing them in chronological order was hard, but I—I wanted my message to adopt a timeline feel—to show the growth and love of Mister Baker over the years. S—see?"

Nia paused until Melody twisted to watch the artist race to one end of the recessed mural. "It starts here with the opening then flows until the present. All the people interconnect one way or another to show unity a—and their colors are warm to emphasize their souls, which Baker cares for. The cool background represents the scorn in the city surrounding them, and also is meant as a contrast—a way of showing how much these overlooked people shine if you open your eyes…" Slowly, Nia's casted hand fell from its animated travel across the mural, pausing unknowingly at Abigail Bryant's face.

A quick sweep revealed more causalities from Black Lotus and even more due to sickness and gang violence. Some Melody was helping yet lost contact with years ago, while others she didn't know at all. Maybe the unfamiliarity of most was why the familiar ones stood out. And though Mel didn't believe in spirits, she felt like the people's stylized eyes cut through her—to the point where she could no longer study them.

"D—do you not like it?" Oddly, Nia sounded concerned when Melody shifted the flyers about.

"It's fitting," the cyborg replied with semi-hoarse words. Her fingers halted at a small cluster of papers at the stack's bottom. They were labeled with the word 'UNWANTED' in bold spray paint beneath the grainy pictures. Hers included. Wait. Someone made a flyer for her?

"Mister Baker did that," Nia said from somewhere close. "A kid graffitied on it, but…"

"He had no reason for this."

"W—well, Baker said the kid does things like that to—"

"Not Zeke." Mel frowned. "Baker."

"You know the kid's name?"

"So does Baker."

"Then what's wrong?" Nia neared from wherever she stood until Mel felt her presence at her side. "Why wouldn't he make a flyer? He had nothing except praise for you when he spoke of it. Y—yet another reason I want to give you a chance."

"Sven! Sven! Over here; it's Miss Melody!"

Melody spun casually at a young boy's voice. It cut through the babble of older folk and belonged to one Jakob Nass. Jakob—his older brother in tow—flailed his arms excitedly as the carrot-tops approached. His hundred-watt smile was broken up by three missing teeth (two of which were the central incisors); but such didn't deter the awe that lit it.

"You look like a mummy!" the boy remarked the moment his sneakers jumped to a stop by Mel.

The cyborg sent his wide, steel blue eyes a lazy stare. "In which case I am a poorly arranged mummy, seeing as how my skin is partly exposed and I retain my—"

"Boring!" Jakob sidestepped, his posture deflating with an exaggerated sigh. The eight-year-old puckered his little lips then peered around Mel as his brother—dressed in a concealing cloak—came to a halt behind her. "Hey, hey! She's a cyborg too, right? Like Miss Tabi?"

Melody narrowed her eye, which landed full-force on Jakob, but it was Sven who spoke next. "Lil B, control yourself."

The younger Nass mustn't have cared for chastisement; his sibling's words went ignored. "You are, aren't you, Miss Melody? Can you change your hands like BB can? Or fly like Tabi? Oh, oh; I bet you can jump really high. Or disappear like a ninja. That'd be so _cool_. I wanna be a ninja!"

"Alright, that's quite enough excitement from you, young man," a new—far more mature—voice interjected. Jakob was then lifted by the back of his long-sleeve shirt before Melody noticed how far the child's gusto had pushed her back.

She stood beyond the tarp that concealed the mural, Nia and Sven soon joining her, and grew rigid at the warm pair of dark eyes that met her. Baker set Jakob on his feet a ways from the cyborg, yet remained stationary—probably in anticipation of Mel's next move.

"Hello, Baker," she said breathlessly.

"It's been a long time, Melody," the elderly man replied just as breathless. "Sven and Tabitha told me you were alive, but,"—he inhaled, shaky, while taking slow steps towards her—"seeing you is so different. So…"

Melody felt weak against his touch. It gripped her arm as if to test her very existence and when his gaze glossed over with tears, her lungs contracted. "I'm sorry for leaving you to deal with them alone," she whispered automatically. She was also near tears, except her control fared better than Baker's.

"No need for sorry," Baker said through tears.

"But I—"

"Am alive. That's all that matters."

"Only you don't know what I've done."

The white-haired man smiled gently, gripping Mel's solid arms. "How many times must I tell you to focus on the good, not the bad? I know plenty of regrettable things you've done. I've been there through most of them since your mother died. Remember?"

Memories were the reason Mel's body felt heavier than any amount of metal could ever make it, and her vision fell on Nia's purple converse to avoid them.

"You discredit how much you contributed to this hotel. To me. How can I not rejoice your resurgence?"

"I can come up with a few reasons," the cyborg grumbled. A flash of Lombardo, Tate, and Stephens entered her mind. Their phantom gazes tensed her jaw, and it wasn't until Baker shifted that she realized her forehead rested on his shoulder.

He gently lifted her chin to meet the pudgy wrinkles of his grin. "I don't care what mistakes you've made. I never have. Sven and Tabitha feel the same as you, which is why they won't tell me exactly what happened in their absence. And that's okay. Those regrets are yours to conquer and share with whoever you wish."

"Who says it is a regret?"

"You have few regrets, I know. And I'm sure this is one. After all, you apologized at the start."

There were not words for Melody to reply with; the topic choked them out, leaving her mute as Baker dried his eyes and faced the silent bystanders. She followed his lead to meet Nia's teal eyes. They were wide with an emotion Mel couldn't place and she scowled in defense of it.

"Are you going to cry now, Miss Melody?" Jakob questioned obnoxiously. Before he could poke the cyborg with his poised finger, Sven slung the kid over his cloak's shoulder. "Hey!"

Baker bellowed a deep chuckle. "Well, Miss Brown, since we're all here, why not unveil the mural? I've been dying to see its progress."

"S—sorry if it's been torturous," Nia replied, sheepish. "I wanted to keep it a surprise."

"And this tarp has been a tease ever since you returned to work! It's done, right? Veronica said it was."

Nia giggled at the man's childish glee, which lit his fleshy face like a fire. "If Sven will tug one corner then we can—"

"I'll do it!"

Melody didn't know when Jakob was released, but in a split second, the child dashed to the tarp, gripped its coarse texture, and pulled down with all his might. It popped as the anchors gave way to his weight and he fell back into a heap of blue plastic, which crumpled as he resurfaced like a flailing cat.

"Aw, creepy; it's just a bunch of faces!" he cried from the floor.

"No,"—Baker spoke softly as he approached the wall—"It…it's just the message I was looking for….

No one said another word when the man fell to his knees, tender fingers tracing the detailed faces. They all knew he needed a moment. And, honestly, Melody would counter any who tried to disturb him.


	5. Unsubtle Intents

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for the reviews, guys! Seriously, they keep me motivated. :) This is the half-way point for this mini-book. Things are starting to take a serious turn...just you wait.

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders and Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

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><p><strong>Chapter 05 - <strong>**Unsubtle Intents**

Donatello reclined against the armchair set in the Lair's living room, studious eyes set on the bare arm Raphael draped over Nia's shoulders. "I knew Baker's name sounded familiar. Mel used to help with the hotel."

"What a saint," Raphael noted tartly from the couch.

Don met the hothead's steeled amber gaze, but chose to ignore it—to prevent an argument they had repeated several times since Melody arrived at the Lair.

"Even you have to admit Melody's honest," injected Nia with a gentle touch of Raph's kneepad. "She has unsubtle intents and while she can avoid matters, she can't lie. I would be able to tell as much even if I didn't have my—my alien bloodline. You should've seen her talking with Baker yesterday. She—"

"Looked lost?" Don finished—a certain action.

Nia blinked her wide, teal eyes. "Y—yes. It was like she didn't know what to feel."

"She often doesn't. Mel's spent so much time in a shell that when something cracks it, she panics."

"So…that was her panicking?"

"More than likely."

"Well, she does a better job of it than me."

Raph snorted with a brusque chuckle, yet quickly regained the sour stare he adamantly clung to whenever Melody was mentioned.

"So,"—Donatello started, forcing his bleakness into a weak smile for Nia—"while you added last minute details to the mural, Melody spent time with Baker?"

The dark-haired human nodded. "He wanted to consult her about some hotel troubles. The grant program he relied on for food distribution was dissolved to fund B—Bishop." Nia said the agent's name with a shiver that drew her closer to her boyfriend. As his toned arm gripped her tightly against his chipped plastron in comfort, she traced her fingers over the circular edge of the Yin-Yang pendant hanging between her breasts. "He's gotten so desperate, he's playing the lottery. But you know the odds of that…"

"Is he losing the hotel?"

"Shouldn't yer _honest_ girlfriend have already told ya these things?" questioned Raphael. He tossed his free arm up rudely and earned his younger brother's glare by partly rolling his eyes.

"Did you forget the _avoiding_ part?" Nia all but snapped. "I was there, so I know. The news hurt her; I—I could feel it like a stake through my brain. It must be devastating, thinking about what could happen to everyone under Baker's care."

"'Cuz she's such an empathetic lady."

At the hothead's scoff, Donny sprung from his chair—no longer capable of tempering rage's flame. "She feels a lot more than she lets on, Raph!"

"An' next ya'll be sayin' we could be best friends."

"Maybe not. However,"—the genius evened and darkened his tone—"you have a lot more in common than you care to admit."

"No we don't."

"Yes, you do," mumbled Nia.

Raphael sent the sheepish artist a look.

"Raph," Donatello addressed morosely, "if you _tried_, I know the two of you could find mutual respect."

"An' how, exactly, does one come ta respect the person who scrambled deir brother's brain?"

"The same way any of us do when _you_ act stupid." Don spoke with barely controlled words in response to the red-banded Chūnin's glare. "Nia's beside you, isn't she? How would you feel if she had done what she was entitled to—leave you for good?"

In seconds Raph's dark expression fell. Silent, he glanced at Nia with illegible emotion. The young woman didn't smile, but she captured his bicep gingerly, as if to reiterate what Don said.

"Whether she realizes it or not, Mel hates what she's done," the bō master continued in a softer tone. "The only thing keeping her from facing the guilt fully is the fear that no one will want her afterwards. It's admitting possible rejection, and she's endured far too much of such already…"

"Hey, are we having another Melody Pow-Wow?" Michelangelo's voice broke the new silence before his form vaulted over the couch's back. He flipped then landed easily, mere inches from the cluttered coffee table, though something about his bright smile felt off when his blue eyes scanned the trio.

"Stop calling them Pow-Wows," remarked Donatello glumly.

"Why?"

"Because it upsets Mel when I talk about her—let alone with you throwing that term around."

"Then why talk about her at all?"

With a weighted sigh, the genius countered his little brother's inquisitive look with a grimace. "I'm just trying to help. It's taken years to learn Mel's ticks, and if you guys understood what I know, I—I thought, maybe…we wouldn't have to go on like this for five years."

"Understanding is best achieved through personal experience, Donatello."

Jerking his head up, Don stiffened his shoulders then faced Splinter behind the couch. "Otōsan."

"Should you be walking after the incident this morning?" Nia asked while twisting in her seat. She reached for Splinter's paw, but the wizened rat gently rejected her hand.

"Michelangelo and I recently partook in a long conversation that I rested through. I am quite well enough to move and not fall."

Despite the assurance in his tone, Splinter limped across the oriental rugs with his walking stick until he reached the armchair behind Donatello. Any help would be refused, so the son remained silent with a heavy heart while his father stiffly settled into the furniture.

"Wh—what were you and Mikey talking about" inquired Nia, soft when she twisted back around and leaned into Raph.

"Just some extra katas to practice since I'm so rusty," the orange-masked Chūnin replied with ease. He flashed Nia a smile, which she didn't return, cementing Don's suspicion of a lie. "Never mind that, you were talking about Melody, right?"

"Not so loud, idiot," Don hissed.

"Your brother makes a point, Michelangelo. Show greater respect for a young woman."

"Sorry, Sensei," Mikey said, automatic.

"As for you, Donatello."

Don grew rigid under Splinter's pointed gaze.

"Should not Melody be here to speak on her behalf? You recall how distressed she was to discover you had spoken of her to me. I have yet to see her throughout the week, in fact."

"Yeah, she hates it," the purple-banded mutant grumbled.

"Then do not place unnecessary strain on your relationship; we, as your clan, understand what must be done. It simply requires time."

"I know, Sensei, but…"

"But?"

Donny's eyes averted from his family, his tone doleful. "I—I hate the feeling of being constantly on guard."

"Donatello,"—Splinter spoke with earnest, stern words that tightened his son's throat—"you cannot always mediate. Like Leonardo can—cannot always save. Let her open up to us in the way that is natural to her."

"And have you guys think negatively of her all the while?" The bite was unintentional and once it left the genius's lips, he groaned lightly in frustration, meeting his father's fixed expression.

"I do not think negatively of her, my son. That is why I respectfully keep my distance. In our talk last week, I realized something. Melody does not understand what a family unit is. Until she accepts it, admits she wants part of it, she will remain in the shadows."

"The thing is, she _does_ want to be part of a family—_this_ family. She just won't go through with it because"—Don's shoulders slumped—"anyone of you could hurt her."

"Donny, Dude," Mikey interjected, tender with pure emotion, "where Melody took Leo was a damned place. But I hate _it_ more than her. When we were trapped, I saw how broken she was when we thought you were dying. A—and your belief in her is what kept her from slipping into darkness completely. Those are two sides of extreme love. I would never rob you of that by hurting Melody."

"Me either," Nia added through a croak. "I—I promised to help you with her. So I will. Besides, I—I think we got along well when she came to work with me. It was kind of scary be—because I didn't want to set her off, but…seeing her at Baker's placed her in new light. She's probably the most scared out of all of us."

"So you don't…hate her?" Don asked. His fists shook gently at his sides, as a means to keep his emotions in check. Even so, his breath quickened and he found himself incapable of making eye contact.

"Hate is a strong word, my son," said Splinter.

"We can be upset like we get with Raph sometimes,"—Mikey injected cheekily—"but I wouldn't use the word hate."

"Speak for yerselves," hissed Raphael. Don turned his head at the blur of dark green and red that moved in his peripheral vision. Raph stood suddenly from the couch while Nia reached for his arm.

"Raph—"

"I'm goin' for a walk," the hothead snapped, avoiding her touch.

"Raphael."

"Sensei, I know what yer gunna say. Sorry ta disappoint ya, but I can't get past the fact that _she's_ here…an' Leo ain't." With those uttered words, Raph left the living room without grapping a coat or shoes before storming past the Lair's entrance. As its gears creaked back into place, sealing the home from the cool sewer tunnels beyond, everyone fell into grim silence.

"So," Michelangelo drawled awkwardly moments later, "did you get to see your mom this morning, Nia?"

The change of subject was abrupt, yet welcomed. Donatello spent enough time worrying about how Raphael and Melody could find common ground, so he faced Nia, who tore her sad gaze from the front door to Mikey. She shared a strained smile with the nunchaku master then twirled her fingers into the loose fabric of her space-print sweater.

"I did," she answered kindly.

"How was the visit, Nia-san?"

The dark-haired human sent Splinter a brighter smile. "She can sit up on her own. She's still not speaking and she can't grip things or walk, but now she knows who we are."

Don stepped towards the couch, eyes wide. "As people who have been helping her or as family?"

"Family, I think." Nia's reply was a whisper that almost gave way to a sob. "The staff calls her Carol Brown and she furrows her brows every time."

"You can't tell her it's an alias?" Mikey asked.

"No. Sh—she doesn't have full cognitive abilities and her memory is sketchy. Daddy and I both agree we should keep any"—she drew a sharp breath—"triggers at bay. For now. She _knows_ we mean something to her, she just can't connect all the dots."

"Comas are unpredictable," Donny noted, didactic yet concerned. "Mia was in one for over four months. I'd say she's making remarkable progress, even if she hasn't fully remembered who you are."

"I can't wait for when she does. There's so much I want to tell her."

"And you'll get that chance." Smiling, Don mirrored Nia's nod then turned to Mikey. "Uh, is something wrong?"

The orange-banded mutant shrugged his shoulders, speaking jokingly as he peered over Don's shoulder into the kitchen, "Naw, Bro. Just wondering why your girlfriend's running around in her underwear."

"She's _what_?" Spinning tightly on his heel, Donatello whirled until he spotted Melody.

The cyborg had entered the room without a word who knows how long ago and now bent in half as she surveyed the contents of their battered refrigerator. The light inside it illuminated her scared, nutty skin, reflecting off the graceful contours of her metal and shapely legs. The genius shamefully caught himself eyeing every toned muscle visible beneath her simple black underwear and sports bra before he shook his head and ventured forward.

"Mel, what are you doing?" he questioned under his breath.

Easily, Melody's calm gaze looked up through one pair of long eyelashes. "Getting a drink."

"Wearing _that_?"

"Would you rather I did not?"

"I"—Don spared Mikey, Nia, and Splinter a quick glance—"choose not to answer. Um, you know, uh, that outfit is not…an outfit. Right?"

The cyborg flashed a dead look, straightening. She grasped Donatello's hand, which shook at the closeness of her near-naked form, and she held it up, saying coolly, "I see three fingers. The last seven letters in the alphabet backwards are Z, Y, X, W, V, U, and T. And"—she dropped the mutant's hand to balance on one foot with the ease of a tightrope walker—"I can repeat it like this as well. Now, do you want me to walk a straight line or have I passed the sobriety test?"

There was stifled laughter from the living room like the live audience of a sitcom. Don glared mildly at Mikey, who hardly maintained composure as he sent his older brother a thumbs-up then an apologetic hand gesture—all in pure silence.

"Where are your clothes, Mel?" asked Don gravely, ensuring his carapace blocked the blonde from the other's view like a divider.

"Off me."

"Melody!"

"I can't have them on, Donny, okay?" Gray-blue eye narrowed, the cyborg slammed the fridge shut after retrieving a bottle of orange juice.

The Chūnin drew his eye ridges close as she tried side-stepping him. "What do you mean?"

"Obviously, I'm hot," Mel countered.

"But it's below seventy degrees in here because the heating system needs new parts."

"Then the cause isn't outside stimuli, is it?"

"Do you have a fever?"

"I'm not sick."

"Then what's wrong?"

Melody groaned in a familiar manner—her tone high and then quickly descending. "Just feel!"

With strong hands, she violently pressed Donatello's wrist against the flesh of her neck. It felt akin to touching a stove burner and the mutant pulled his hand back in surprise at its bite. The skin on his wrist tingled as Mel's gaze fell to her stationary feet, where she waited a reply.

"You've never been this hot before, Mel. Are you sure you aren't sick?"

"Computers are your expertise; sickness is mine. This is something else…" Whether she wasn't before or tried to hide it, Don noted Melody's light pants and a sleek coat of sweat over her chapped features.

"Then let's go figure out what it is," he said definitively. The cyborg peered up at his slight grin with defiance, except he shook his head, daring to place a hand on her heated shoulder. "Two heads are better than one. We wouldn't want you overcooked, right?" The joke was weak and unsettled Don's stomach rather than rousing a laugh; however, Mel gave a silent nod—a true sign of fatigue.

Vision still set on the ground, the lithe blonde rounded her boyfriend, heading for the hall opposing Splinter's and Nia's rooms. "I am working in the Lab," she called over her shoulder. Then, she disappeared behind the bend.

"I—is she going to be okay?" inquired Nia when Donny exited the kitchen.

"It must be a coolant issue with some internal wiring, though I'm not sure how deep-rooted such a system would be. If I have to cut…" The genius sighed, mind reeling at the possibilities. Nia returned his brush off with a concerned stare, which he found heartbreaking. "If things get too bad, I'll call LH. Until then, everything's fine. Thanks for worrying, Imouto-chan."

Nia's face lit red at Don's address and she nodded alongside Mikey and Splinter. "O—of course, Onii-san."

"Keep us informed," Splinter added solemnly.

"With you for sure," the genius remarked, dour. "I have something _else_ to study with her as well. See you guys later."

Donatello left the conversation at that, regardless of Michelangelo's and Nia's confused expressions. He sensed the utter displeasure of his father's stare behind him when he headed for the Lab. Yet the rat knew the matter wouldn't rest forever; tissue samples had already been obtained.


	6. Fruitless Frets

**Author's Notes:** Surprise! Couldn't wait until Friday. LOL. Sorry; I'm STILL figuring out a good release schedule. I think I have a one where the most you have to wait between chapters is 3 days, not 5/6. I'll be more mindful of that come next mini-book. Anyways, THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! They feed my muse and love. So thanks. :D

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders and Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

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><p><strong>Chapter 06 - <strong>**Fruitless Frets**

The last three days had been hell for Melody. She was dehydrated; no amount of ice baths could cool her down; and the reality that her body must be treated as both an organic and inorganic entity left her with a constant stomachache. She hated computers.

"Looks like I was fine not asking LH after all," Don said, glancing over a chart his girlfriend had insisted he print.

"Let me see it," the cyborg noted while reaching a hand up from the metal table she rested on for comfort.

"So you can fret over it? Don't think so."

"You are the one with fruitless frets. Give it."

"It's down to a ninety-nine-point-nine. I think that's your new core temperature, considering the power cell inside you…"

Melody frowned deeply as her boyfriend trailed off. Her robotic fingers traveled across her exposed stomach to the thick scar running from below her pelvic bone up to her diaphragm. Beneath her unfeeling digits, she traced its length. Its bubbled texture could only be imagined, but she swore the power cell crammed between her internal organs—partly protected by her ribs—pulsed in response like a parasite reminding her of its new home. Her jaw tensed once her hand brushed over the hump where the cell resided then fell to her side.

"Hey,"—said Donny softly while rubbing a gentle palm over her organic bicep—"we managed to discharge the excessive ions your blood was absorbing. If we continue doing so once a week, your temperature should remain steady."

"But the cell must reside in me," Mel retorted, hardly calm.

"It's part of the reason you're alive."

The blonde scoffed sullenly at his whisper.

"Mel—"

"H—how can I have such advantages, yet feel so much weaker than everyone else?" When the young woman cut off Don, she did so with a frustrated growl and trembled as she recalled the diagram depicting the network of wires that interconnected her nerves with their respective cybernetic limbs. "I wonder if Sven and Tabitha feel this way too…"

"We should call them soon, see what their temperatures are." Melody gave a firm nod, but Don sighed since she wouldn't face him. "I know you're scared, having to worry about a possible overload or a leak o—or needing to change the cell like a phone battery. But you shouldn't be."

"Why not?"

"Because you have me."

Words soft, Donny leaned down to meet Melody's vision, which he gained by sternly forcing her chin his way. He gazed at her on the table with warm, brown eyes, but what stole her breath was the deep kiss that cemented his assurance in what was left of her heart. He pulled back once her body tingled then placed a peck on her cheek, breathing in her scent before their eyes connected again.

"Genius-level technician, remember?" he asked lightly. "If anyone can maintain your power cell so you can be comfortable, it's me. And I promise I won't work on you like the Lair's mainframe, okay?"

Mel was blushing, she knew, so she simply nodded, rolling off the table's other side. Donatello donned a lab coat for both warmth and practicality, yet the cyborg felt like she was standing in a sauna. Apparently, she would have to adapt.

"I'm glad this is finally settled," Don remarked.

Melody studied his smile coolly. "Oh?"

"Don't take it like that, Mel. I mean I'm glad you're fine and now I have another matter to work on."

"Which is?"

"I'll tell you after I call LH."

"Your…crocodile friend?"

"Is the thought really any stranger than what you see before you?"

Mel flashed a small smirk. "Nothing is."

"Spend more time with Mikey and you'll change your tune. Now,"—the genius twirled in search of something—"where is my phone?"

"Good luck with your device."

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"I need a break from…this. I will return and do not fret; I will wear my gear." Shooting a quick glance over her shoulder at her boyfriend's mild expression, Melody left the Lab.

Within several swift minutes she traveled to Donatello room, retrieved her sleeveless cyber-suit, and made her way downstairs—dressed completely sans her head and arms. The altered Kevlar, interlocking plates over her knees, elbows and chest, as well as the high collar felt restrictive from the rise of her body's temperature. And she tugged as its material as if it were suffocating.

'_Damn, Don and I are going to have to find a way to make this breathe because I could faint…huh? Oh, great._'

Mel came to a halt at Raphael, who'd just entered the Lair from an extended stay outside. He didn't notice her until the door locked and glanced up with a scowl. By then they stood within an arm's reach of one another—a dangerous distance.

"Gray," he addressed stoically.

"Hamato," she countered, just as stoic.

Neither moved an inch with their steeled stares meeting one another. Mel knew better than to make the first move; Raphael always took it the wrong way. So she waited for the glint in his eye, the one which told stories of the disgust he harbored for her. When it shined, he scoffed, turning his head to the left (never the right), before sidestepping.

"Going out?" he asked with no real interest.

"Yes," answered Mel as he passed her.

"Good."

'_At least he does not hide himself behind a guise. Like others. He only validates what I tell Donatello nearly every day._'

"Oh, Hamato."

Raphael paused, half way up the stairs.

"At least fake sleep for Nia's sake tonight. Her motor skills are suffering and if her judgment slips any further, she could trip off the subway platform on her way to work."

"You"—Raph leaned over the railing in an instant to point an accusing finger at the listless cyborg—"stay away from my girlfriend. I can take care of her, Gray."

There were so many remarks Melody could dish back. But she didn't. She let the topic die with the hothead's continued ascent to his room, so she exited the Lair in silence.

Beyond was no less hot than inside and within several turns, the cyborg felt winded because of the heat. She maintained even breaths, though, to keep moving forward until rays of New York's nightlife lit the finish line. The cyborg furrowed her brow at the bulky silhouette that broke up the horizon of city lights beyond the culvert. He was dressed mostly in orange—from what Mel could see—and he didn't turn when he spoke.

"Konbanwa, Melody."

"Michelangelo," Mel addressed, rather stiff. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, little ol' me? Thinking. I come to this spot pretty often."

"Really? I have yet to see you before and Donatello has not told me you visit here."

"That's because Donny doesn't know."

"I see…then I will leave you to your thoughts."

"Wait—don't," Michelangelo called the moment Melody twisted her shoulders. She didn't dare face the mutant, though she sensed an unnerving smile directed at her back. "It could be our secret. You probably came here for the same reason, right?"

The cyborg turned carefully towards the city lights, as if at gun point. Michelangelo's smile grew in either anticipation or expectation. Or maybe something else entirely. Mel couldn't tell. At least he wasn't yelling for her to leave and the outside breeze felt incredibly good against her skin. So, quiet and tentative, she eased to the wide culvert's other side, gaze set on the orange-hued sky.

"There's a lot of smog tonight; we can't see any stars," Michelangelo remarked while also scanning above.

"Is there an importance in the stars?" Mel countered.

"I just like how they feel."

"Stars do not feel nor does any amount of traveling light invoke feeling."

The orange-clad mutant chuckled, yet the blonde couldn't understand why. "It's not about the light. It's…the essence. Space is the vastest, darkest, coldest place in existence and within it are so many rays of light, reaching millions of light years away. It shows that all darkness can be broken."

"But eventually a star's life ends."

"And there will always be more to take its place. Point is: it reminds me that my clan will also have light, no matter how far we bury ourselves in the shadows…"

"Finding the light can be difficult," Mel muttered absentmindedly.

For a long moment, Michelangelo remained silent. His studious blue eyes could be sensed through the quietness, yet Melody ensured her attention remained on the city glistening with snow. Eventually, he returned to the horizon as well, a wistful sigh at his lips.

"You don't believe us, do you?" he inquired.

"There are few things I believe in."

"I mean about us wanting you here." Tsking, the mutant shoved his hands into his pockets, which Melody watched him do with great intrigue. How was he so relaxed around her? "It's alright to hang out, ya know? You're already well along your way to being our sister—like it or not."

"Sister?" Mel whispered only because a flabbergasted force sent her reeling.

"Yeah. You love Don. Don loves you. And I don't think you're going anywhere. If our genius' frightened rejection and one nutcase company didn't keep you from him, I don't think anything will."

"But such does not make me a sister."

"It would if you got to know us more."

"That…"

"Is true?"

Frowning, Mel spoke carefully, "Why would you _want_ to know me?"

The orange-clad mutant shrugged nonchalantly, sending the cyborg a quirky grin. "Uh, cyborgs are cool? Don highly regards you? I like meeting new people?"

"Be serious."

"I am! All that's true."

"Yet I sense it is not your primary reason."

"And your sense knows." Michelangelo tapped a thick finger against his nose in a strange gesture then chuckled as his hand returned to his pocket. "The truth is, I can't bring myself to blame you. Even if you were to never apologize about Leo, I couldn't. Why? Because I know for a fact good people can be found in the worst organizations. I know people make mistakes. I know sometimes they don't get to fix them. And…I feel for them."

"I do not require—"

"See? That's where you're a lot like Raph."

Melody twitched, yet remained attentive while the mutant continued.

"He takes time to wear down, too. But in the end he'll admit he requires a lot of things—most of it being support from loved ones. I heard you were the Lone Ranger of the homeless, right?"

"Crudely put."

"I'll take that as a yes. Anyways, you know what it's like to oversee and defend others, except…you don't know what it means to work together—to trust others with your life as they do likewise. The Lone Ranger act doesn't work in a family; you have to be a unit. You probably find it hard to imagine yourself in one. Maybe it even seems like too much trouble. But if you don't have family, if you don't have those connections, how fulfilling is your life?"

"It could be filled with science and work."

"Come on; weren't you ever lonely before Don?"

Michelangelo's question felt like a test and at the same time a trap. She didn't know what she should say. Of course she had bouts of longing and depression; that was why she took to solving other's problems. It never quite filled the void in her heart, though—not until Donatello insisted on knowing her.

"Told ya. Family can be maddening, but it's the best thing. Especially for broken people."

"Broken, huh?" Melody glanced down at her robotic hands, which clenched tightly in the city's cold lights from afar.

"Look; I just want you to know I'm willing to be friends if you are. I don't say that because I have to; I know I don't _have_ to. I want to. Because I'm all about giving out second chances. Do you mind that?"

The blonde had no reason not to, so she shook her head and lowered her hands.

"What do ya know, you're really easy to talk to after a few sick days and with Raph nowhere in sight." When the mutant snickered, Melody glared. "Sorry, sorry. He can be a pill. Speaking of your sickness, are you any better?"

"Donatello and I isolated the issue," Mel answered, listless.

"So…yes?"

"In a way."

"Oh, good. Then are you hungry?"

"For what?"

Michelangelo flashed a bright smile. "Goulash."

"What….is goulash?"

"Come to the kitchen to watch me make it and find out. You, oh fortunate one, will witness a culinary artist at work." Twirling with the grace of a ballet dancer, Michelangelo strolled down the wet tunnel until Melody called out seconds later. "Yeah?"

She met his gaze evenly through the shadows, saying stiffly, "I am…sorry for Leonardo."

The mutant didn't reply, but he did nod. And something about the light in his blue eyes led Mel to believe he was happy for her. Somehow.


	7. Big Step

**Author's Notes:** Reviews make my day, so thanks, guys! Now, this chapter is...Prepare yourself. The clan's about to go through something trying, and the drama will explode come next chapter.

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders and Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

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><p><strong>Chapter 07 - <strong>**Big Step**

Donatello's smile was easy and filled with warmth, and he directed at Melody's profile.

"Must you keep doing that?" the cyborg questioned as they strolled along a raised path in the sewer tunnel. If there were enough room to walk side-by-side, he would've captured her hand; but since he had to occasionally glance at her face by leaning towards the side from behind, he settled for kissing the back of her head when he straightened.

"I can't help it," he said, still smiling.

"I talked with Michelangelo. It is not as if I won a Nobel Prize."

"You're right; it's better."

"I knew there was a reason I waited to tell you."

"What's that mean?"

"I don't want a big deal made out of it." Melody's words sounded hot with frustration—a clear sign the topic irked the young woman on a deep-rooted level.

So, Don reigned in some of his excitement. "This is a big step for you, Mel. Mikey too. Why shouldn't I be happy?"

"We simply called a truce," the blonde replied in her listless voice.

"And Stephen Hawking _dabbles_ in Mathematics. Come on, Mel! Doesn't it feel good to have Mikey working with you? Like Nia?"

"Nia is calm like Sven. I do not mind her company."

"And Mikey?"

It was hard to tell what kept Melody silent, but after a long pause, she added, "He surprised me."

"You'll find that families are full of those," remarked Don while resting a wrist against the crook of Mel's neck. He twisted his hand so his fingers traced her jaw and when she shivered lightly, he gave her head another kiss.

"Do not count me in the inner circle just yet," the blonde mumbled.

Don frowned at the shame in her tone. "Fine. But you're drawing closer to it. And if you're going to help me and LH with Splinter…then you'll prove yourself a daughter as well, whether or not you mean to…"

"Donatello, my friend, you are early."

Leatherhead's rumbling voice drew the genius' attention to a colossus crocodile on two legs, whose hunched, stocky figure stood beneath the warm light of what could be called a front door step. The lamp high-lightened the mutant's scaly texture in red as he smiled with his long row of sharp teeth—a friendly gesture only to those who knew him well. Don's plastron thumped the metal of Melody's shielded shoulder blade when she halted, forcing him to grip the cyborg's biceps so they remained upright. Once their footing was regained, Donatello returned his friend's gesture. Though the sudden stillness that passed over the trio puzzled him.

Leatherhead's and Melody's eye contact continued for several long moments. Neither of them blinked nor moved, but Don somehow knew they were deeply assessing one another. Perhaps they sensed an akin spirit between them—intelligent beings stuck in a vortex of uncontrollable emotion that they can't escape. Solitary. Misunderstood. These traits could be picked up easily by those trained, so when Melody raised her chin, Don was quite aware she knew parts of the croc's history already.

"Leatherhead," she addressed, monotonous.

"Miss Gray, is it?" LH replied in all politeness. "How honored I am to finally meet the woman Donatello has mentioned many times over."

"Many times?"

Donny chuckled nervously at the sharp look Mel sent over her shoulder. "Hope the early arrival hasn't disrupted any plans, LH. Mel and Raph…uh, yeah."

"I was simply replacing this light, friend. I did not wish for you and your mate to injure yourselves with this sudden drop before entering my Lair."

"M—m—mate?" Donatello's face grew hot when LH casually nodded before disappearing behind a bend. Words were hard to find for all of three seconds in the Chūnin's jumbled mind, until flustered emotion forced air from his lungs. "Th—that's an interesting…term," he shouted to the unseen mutant. "Um, intimate. You can call her my girlfriend."

"Why not mate?" Mel retorted coolly. A low grinding of stone signified the opening of LH's Lair, so the croc reappeared to aid Melody from the knee-high drop off. Her heavy weight splashed in the stagnant water then shifted.

"You don't find it embarrassing?" Don muttered while landing beside Melody on the lower platform. He almost swore she smirked with her lithe body partly twisted, except it was so hard to tell under the red light.

"Why would I? It is _accurate_."

Now she was teasing; the light tone she used accompanied a slight brush of her cold fingers against the outside of Donatello's thigh. It wouldn't have been so bad if he wore clothes, but since the entire trip was made underground, Don had refrained from dressing. And her touch caused him to jump to the side. Mel chuckled behind LH's turned back, who remained quiet in either respect or embarrassment while guiding the couple into his Lair. Either way, Donny's whole body temperature rose with the seductive allure of Melody's blue-gray eye.

"You, just, no—stop," the genius stammered by his girlfriend's head.

She faced his pointed finger slyly, bringing a hand behind her to rub his other thigh.

"This is highly inappropriate."

"When have I ever been appropriate?"

With a brusque huff, Don captured Mel's robotic wrist to spin her towards him. "Remember why we're here," he said, stern. All playfulness melted from Melody's scarred face in an instant. It was heart-wrenching to watch, but Donatello required her full concentration. "Any other time—at home. Not now. I'm sorry."

"No; we have priorities." The cyborg spoke as if nothing had happened and turned when LH called to them from the top of a triple-wide stone staircase.

"You moved your lab station?" Donny questioned, following Mel up the stairs.

The croc nodded his long snout. "My work grew too big. I was feeling cramped."

"Where is it now?"

"The top tier, below the clock."

"Wasn't that area narrow?"

"Not once I did some remodeling." Chuckling, LH continued up a second staircase just as soon as Mel and Don reached the vast second tier.

The turtle mutant scanned over the cracked, twenty-foot ceiling and various arches where he stood. Below it was filled with the bare essentials of life—complete with a mini fridge, bookcases, tossed mattress on the floor, and countless amounts of scavenged knickknacks.

"You got a new armchair," Don noted.

"Yes, the other…broke. Now, come."

The croc sounded eager, so Donny wasted no time conquering the last bit of stairs. He stopped at the wide threshold of a stone arch that once was blocked by a brick wall. Inside resided a deep niche, which was filled with wires, machines, shelves, vials, bins, and other gadgets. The six high-watt lamps anchored to the ceiling gave proper lighting and drew Don to his friend beside a white box that Mikey would describe as a tabletop washing machine.

"Is your ultracentrifuge operational now?" the Chūnin questioned, racing towards it.

"It actually seals," LH replied. "And without the throwing of samples against the vacuum chamber."

"What type of rotor design does it have?" Mel asked. She all but pushed Don aside and opened its lid beside the crude digital display to peer inside.

"Either swinging or fixed, depending on the bolt's tightness," the croc answered.

"And how do the samples remain uncompromised?"

"There is a cubical section of taunt plastic sheets at the back, which I use when necessary."

"You move it."

"My space is terribly limited, so I must."

"What other samples do you—is that an ultrasound machine?"

Leatherhead—an amused smile on his snout—followed the cyborg with his gaze. "The display requires fine tuning and it is prone to cutting on and off, but yes."

"You created these from scratch," she remarked, near breathless as her hands ran over the mismatched metal of the aforementioned machine.

"Essentially; like Donatello does."

"Do you have Petri dishes, syringes—"

"Gloves, microscopes, and more. I have much free time and a love for science, Miss Gray."

"Don,"—Mel stood up then faced her boyfriend with a grave expression—"can I complete the biopsy?"

With no need for protest, Donatello grasped the insulated pouch at his side. He gently unbelted it, frowning at the thought of what lay inside, then placed it in Mel's waiting hands. She looked a little too eager for the reality of their visit, but he let her be, knowing the medical field was her element.

'_She'll still need help though,_' thought the mutant as he watched the cyborg familiarize herself with the space. '_Many of these machines she's only dreamed of using. Knowing and experience are two separate things…_'

"I would also like to study a blood sample from you."

Donny blanched at the metal finger that pointed his way. "Mel, we're concentrating on Splinter."

"And now you. Collect two; I want to place one in the ultracentrifuge."

"And I'm sure wanting to play with it is no contributing factor," the Chūnin grumbled. Yet after a sigh, he neared a plastic table lined with long slivers of fabric for tourniquets and sent LH a lop-sided smile. "Would you mind helping?"

"Of course not, my friend." Leatherhead approached with strange grace for one his size, reaching for a syringe in a plastic tub stuck to the brick wall. Though it looked fragile in the croc's clawed hands, LH handled it expertly through the process of preparation as Don tightly tied some fabric below his bicep. "May I ask why your blood is to be studied?"

"Oh, right,"—Don winced as the needle entered his arm—"you don't know the full story."

"I was never informed of Leonardo's capture until _after_ the matter." There was a tinge of anger in the croc's voice. Thankfully, LH tempered it.

"Forgive us, LH; there were a lot of things going on."

"I could have helped search."

"I know…sorry."

LH nodded under the genius' sorrow, extracting the full syringe. The sight of it filled with red liquid was distasteful, but Don prepared his remaining arm for the same purpose.

"So, what will your mate be searching for in your blood?"

Donatello almost jerked in surprise at the unusual term—until a sharp prick in his arm seized him. Unwilling to tear a vein, the purple-masked mutant ignored the heat in his face, averting his eyes to Mel's animated figure. "She'll probably look for residual abnormalities from a drug called Recro-12."

"Recro-12?"

"It's involved. Having to do with the people who took Leo and…the EPF."

LH about crushed the syringe in his claw when a deep growl sounded in his throat. "_Bishop_."

"Yeah. But he was just the start." Once the second syringe was pulled out, Don sought the bandages LH had set out minutes ago.

"Has that madman done something to you?" the mutant croc questioned through labored breaths.

Don had the mind to retrieve his blood samples and place them on another table. "Rage, LH," he kindly reminded his heaving friend, hands drawn up. "_He_ laid the base for another scientist named Annabelle Lombardo, who worked as a mole in the EPF before joining Black Lotus. Long story short, it's meant as a regeneration serum to grow back or cleanse damaged cells by purging the old ones."

"And it was successful?"

"It,"—Don's arms dropped—"not really. As far as I understand, it has an eighty percent mortality rate."

"Yet it is in you?" Breaths evening, Leatherhead's features grew grim, his bright eyes dimming.

The genius nodded. "You're looking at a fraction of the rare twenty percent. Me, a little girl named Kaiya, and…and Leo."

"I do not understand. Why is such a risky drug in you when you were not captured?"

"See? That's…"

"Your mate?"

"How did-?" Donatello paused, having caught his glance in Melody's direction.

"I must admit, such is unexpected," LH remarked coolly.

"Even knowing she was working under Black Lotus?"

"Something tells me it was not an order, though."

"Perceptive…"

"So?"

Grin weak, Don twisted his head to meet the mutant he now stood eye-to-eye with. "She did it to save my life. That twenty percent beat the zero percent I was subject to when Stephens poisoned me. She hates herself for having to do it. And worries about it a lot. But I know it was necessary. It hurt like hell at first, but now? I feel great."

"It has not metabolized from your system?"

"As far as we've checked…no. It's a permanent reconstruction, a new marker in our DNA, and it's most prominent in Kaiya."

"The child."

"She suffered internal trauma, a gaping stomach wound, and broken bones. And by the time she reached the hospital, she needed only a few days rest before being discharged."

"Remarkable."

"Few people agree," added Donatello sullenly. "Kaiya's new primary care doctor said her growth rate is slowed down. The drug's so stimulated in her that it keeps revitalizing the same youthful cells. They won't age. No one can say if it's a permanent thing or if it will die down in time. She could end up looking eight until she's twenty or randomly age in between. It's hard to tell."

"Does the same apply to you?"

"Dunno. Maybe I'm too old for the fountain of youth part, but my cells purged the poison completely."

"And your healing?"

"That's accelerated as well, though not as fast-acting as Kaiya's. Leo's leg was broken by the time we were all retrieved, and that healed in under two weeks, not hours."

"What initial research could have been done to create such a drug?"

"Somewhere close to home, actually. It—"

"Don!" Melody's sharp voice cut across the long lab. "You will want to look at this."

The genius couldn't fight the lead ball forming in his stomach or keep his throat from drying up. Mel's gaze bore into him in all seriousness, luring him to a well-lit microscope with the promise of bad news. She stepped aside once he reached it and he needed no instructions to place his face against the eyepiece. On the stage below, a bright display of cells were squished within a slide. It took a great deal of effort to admit the find—especially since the sickly things wiggled like a gelatin that induced nausea.

"Donatello?" Leatherhead asked when he neared the couple.

Don couldn't answer him. Despite taking a seat far from the microscope, his eyes still saw the cells. Those ugly things.

"My friend?"

"Let him be for a moment," Melody noted sternly. She hardly paused before continuing, "His father has cancer…"


	8. Imperfect Emotions

**Author's Notes:** Here we are, the last week of this story. Consider this chapter the climax, the inevitable hashing between Raphael and Melody! Enjoy! :D

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders and Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

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><p><strong>Chapter 08 - <strong>**Imperfect Emotions**

The prominent scent of a spicy, chicken quesadilla hardly smelled appetizing to Melody. Food, in general, had lost its appeal in the last four days, and the cyborg hadn't touched it since Michelangelo placed it before her several minutes ago. If she were the only one to do so, maybe she would feel a bit guilty for the orange-masked mutant going through unnecessary trouble.

Except she wasn't.

Beside her at the Lair's kitchen table, Nia moved the triangular pieces around her plate, her face white with dread. Ahead, Michelangelo cut his food into smaller bits. It didn't seem he realized that he made the same cut many times over, and Donatello had no mind to stop the strange behavior.

'_Not that he has noticed much recently,_' Mel thought with her hands clenched tightly on her lap. '_Everything I have said has made little difference…_'

Comfort was hardly her forte, but she had tried. During the initial biopsy of Splinter's tumor, she'd suggested the disease could possibly be in its early stages or not terribly aggressive. A full body examination the following day, however, proved otherwise. Splinter described many common symptoms of cancer, and the X-Ray machine in Leatherhead's laboratory was useful in determining the clusters of black inside the wizened rat's bones. Given the amount in his joints, both Melody and Leatherhead agreed the cancer had taken root well over a year ago.

'_Splinter has not emerged from his room since we all collected and showed him the pictures…I believe, at heart, he knew he was this ill. There were so many hardships vexing on his sons, though, that he chose to ignore it. But it can no longer be ignored. If it is, he_…'

"C—cancer, huh?" Michelangelo said to break the thick silence.

"A type of Chondrosarcoma, to be specific," Mel muttered in reply. Her words were even, yet everyone at the table flinched.

When the Lair's lights dimmed, Nia drew a shaky breath. "A—a—and how far along did you say it was?"

The cyborg faced the pale young woman coolly. The meeting had been informative and ended a little over half an hour ago, so she shouldn't have forgotten already.

"Stage two, very near stage three," answered Donatello miserably. "It requires immediate attention."

"But…do you have the resources to treat cancer?" Nia's timid voice reached nothing more than a whisper, which weighed on Don's slumped form like a steel beam.

"Not yet."

"Okay,"—Michelangelo dropped his knife and fork so they clanked against his glass plate when his hands rose—"Wh—what are the steps of dealing with cancer? After the shock comes denial, right? A—am I the only one sitting here, thinking this can't be happening?"

"No," Nia said under her breath.

"Is rage or acceptance supposed to follow? I can't tell which step Raphy Boy jumped into before he split."

At the nunchaku master's tossed up arms, Nia grimaced, saying, "Whichever it is, he should be here. Too many bad things have driven wedges between everyone recently."

"One of us should get him at the new garage," interjected Don.

"I will." Melody spoke before Nia's head so much as faced her. The blonde slid back her chair as she gracefully rose, calm gaze set on her mate's gawk.

"You and Raph don't exactly have the best track record," added Michelangelo.

But Mel kept her eyes focused. "Precisely. Right, Don?"

Slowly, Donatello's slack jaw tightened. And for the first time in days, he smiled. "Right…"

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><p>The new garage was located underground. Really, it was more of a temporary storage space in an old subway station meant to last until the others could fortify another shelter Topside. How they managed to park the Battleshell in it was a mystery. Maybe they rode it along the old tracks? No matter; Melody approached the Shell Cycle beside it, where Raphael worked on its exposed engine beneath two halogen floor lamps.<p>

"What are ya doin' here, Gray?" he questioned without glancing up.

"Your family wishes for you to return," the cyborg answered listlessly.

"So they sent _ya_?"

His scoff wasn't a surprise, so Mel paused a good distance from the hothead, to regard him through steeled eyes. "Actually, _I_ volunteered."

"Sure ya did." Judging by Raphael's hoarseness, trembling arms, and the scattered tools that looked to have been flung in rage, Melody felt confident assuming he had just finished a rampage before her arrival.

"I have no reason to lie," she said, stronger.

"So why would ya wanna come get me then?"

"Because I understand what you are feeling."

"Oh, now _that's_ rich." Raph's bitter laugh bellowed like a fog horn through the vast space. It echoed notably off Melody's metal, testing her limits as he whirled her way. "Ya ain't got feelings. Or a soul."

"Is that how you perceive me?"

"Don ain't here ta stop me, so I'll say it. Yeah. An' yer a reminder, too. Every time I see yer face, I think a' Leo. An' what he went through. An' how ya just _watched_." The last word was whispered, hissed, but it struck like lightening.

"You have no idea of the pain that lead up to that point," Melody snapped back.

"Rejected love don't make torturin' oddahs okay."

"I never claimed it did."

"Ya sure don't act otherwise. Hell, it pisses me off just lookin' at that dead face 'a yers—knowin' Leo's in so much pain an' ya don't even _care_. How can Don smile at ya when ya won't show accountability? Everything ya did was purely selfish. How can Don love _that_?"

"Selfish." Mel repeated the word softly before a fire welled in her chest, bringing with it an explosive amount of hurt anger through her limbs. "You and your quick judgments are wrong!" she cried in a strained tone.

"Quick?" The red-masked Chūnin threw his head back as if humored. "I've had a month ta come ta them. Thanks."

"Really? And yet they're still so small-minded? I see why Don has stress dealing with you at times."

"That's none 'a yer business, Gray."

"It is now since I'm _staying_ with him."

Raphael darkened under Melody's glare—a dangerous yet familiar action. "Ya ain't go a right ta be with us."

"And you have no right to assume I'm some machine!" Her breaths were growing ragged, her head light, so Mel widened her stance to keep from tilting over. "Regardless of metal, I'm still human!"

"Then where's the guilt?"

"I don't _know_!" Control be damned; it was too much effort fighting the sting then fall of several tears. It hit so suddenly, it surprised the blonde, and after a shudder reached from her head to her toes, they quickened. "I don't know," she added, softer while drawing her arms close.

"Don't know?" Raphael chucked his tool against the Shell Cycle's grimy engine. It clanked and he stepped back with a scowl as it ricocheted towards the ground. "Look. Ya either feel guilt or ya don't. There's no mystery."

"I've always had problems with emotions," continued Mel, prompted only by thoughts of Don's hopeful smile. "What Stephens' did to me…made matters worse. He tried to kill them. And I wanted to believe he had because the pain was too much. I couldn't—I couldn't take the heartache. I couldn't take Don not loving me…"

"I've been scorned before. But never once thought it would be beddah ta cut off a vital part 'a my humanity. So ta speak."

"You still don't get it; I was done being _alive_!"

Melody's scream led to a deafening silence that forced Raphael against his Shell Cycle. The tears didn't let up—even when the hothead sent an aggravating look of confusion—so the cyborg blinked her eye to keep her vision clear.

"You think you've lived the lowest existence under this city, don't you? You've been looked down, feared, isolated, gained enemies. I understand what that's like. And yet you're fortunate. You weren't alone. Not like me.

"So your skin is green. So you have a carapase. Were you left to fend for yourself at the age of twelve? Did you try to maintain work while others treated you and other homeless like you shouldn't exist? Have you ever felt like life wasn't worth the trouble?

"I've fought for as long as I could remember. I've left wounded in my wake, went through a period of _real_ selfishness, and spent the other remainder giving out everything of myself to others because I didn't want it anymore. No one wanted it—_me_. Not until Don."

"So"—Raphael spoke stiffly—"to you, Don is—"

"Not someone I really like. He's someone I _need_." Mel's next breath was shuddering and it weakened her knees so badly that they caved against the concrete floor.

From the Shell Cycle, the mutant stood with one hand on the bike, but a tremble in his own knees couldn't be missed. "Th—that don't excuse ya."

"I'm not looking for an excuse," Mel bit back. "Donny wants so strongly for me to be in his family, so I'm telling you my side of things—to prove that I at least tried."

"So ya can turn it around an' have me blamed for our standoffs?"

"I have no reason to make you the villain."

"No, that's _yer_ job."

The blonde grew rigid on the ground and startling resentment overshadowed her sorrow then dried her tears. "You question why Don loves me?" she snarled. "Well so do I. I'm nothing short of a train wreck—a scattered mess with pieces not worth putting back together. But, somehow, he thinks otherwise. H—he's taken the time to follow the tracks and clean the mess so I don't feel broken. Instead, I'm safe, I'm loved…I have somewhere to belong."

"If ya love him so much…how could ya do that ta Leo?" Raphael's words were no longer heated, but rather, distanced by confusion. And Mel met them with new control.

"Because no matter how hard Don tries, I'm fractured. Stephens has messed with my mind and now I have imperfect emotions. Sometimes I feel. Sometimes I don't. It may depend on the situation or perhaps my Limbic System short-circuits at random. Either way, I can't force, store, or explore emotion. It just…happens. I—I have no power over it. And I _hate_ that. I think."

"So ya really don't feel guilty?"

"Not now. However, I am sorry for the pain Don, you, and the others had to go through. And even more so for what lies ahead."

"Splinter's cancer."

Melody nodded at Raphael's croak. As reality washed over the mutant, Mel regained her footing, wiping the tear stains off her cheek with her organic shoulder until all emotion settled into nothingness once more.

"You scoffed at me earlier," she started, even. "But I know what it feels like when your parent has cancer. My mother died of brain cancer when I was twelve and my whole drive in the medical field stemmed from her."

Raphael huffed. "Thought ya said ya couldn't store emotion. Don't that mean ya can't remember this…feeling?"

"Like Donatello's love, the frightening helplessness and heartache impacted me too much to forget."

"Forgive me if I can't exactly trust ya on that."

Melody frowned under the hothead's pointed sneer. His biting sarcasm was enough to clench her fists, but since she needed to secure some sort of truce for Donatello's sake, she preserved a monotonous voice. "I do not expect trust so soon. You and I are alike in such an instance."

"_Don't_ compare us," growled Raphael.

"Why not? I recall you horribly breaking the hearts of Nia and Michelangelo then taking time to make amends. How is such any different from what I did?"

"Damn Don and his big mouth."

"Like the matter was at all a secret. You involved everyone in your hurt. I understand that, too…"

Perhaps Mel's soft words impacted Raphael deeper than intended. His still, observing form regarded her without total contempt—according to the cyborg's judgment anyway. In the end, she couldn't decide if he believed her or not. So, she chose another route.

"We both care for Donny, right?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"_Answer_."

The way he pressed his wide mouth meant he wanted to rebel, yet the hothead listened to some better judgment, saying, "Yeah."

"Then, for him, should we not come to better terms?"

"That's askin' a lot for someone who—"

"Forget that! If your family can forgive you for all the wrong you do, then you could do likewise for someone else."

"Sure, if they _meant_ it."

"I do!" Alit with frustration, Melody swung her arm sideways before placing both hands on her waist, jutting out a hip. "I explained how I now function. How you act under such information is your accountability. However, I can't stand the harm your stubborn hate brings on Don."

"Now yer blamin' me for his hurt?" Raphael questioned with a rough thumb jammed at his throat.

"What will it take for you to understand?"

"Genuineness, Gray!"

"Except you won't believe it!" Melody's head shook. The feeling like she was arguing with a child doused her anger in seconds, ironing her expression. "You are rarely persuaded by words, I can tell. So there is more I must do. Now, I…I could not save my mother. I was unprepared, young. Even so, I swear I will work with Leatherhead and Donatello to the best of my abilities to keep Splinter alive."

"Ya mean that?" Raphael spoke quickly and with a bit of panicked breathlessness. But his hard stare remained without a trace of hopefulness or acceptance.

"I only say what I mean. And you can ask Don; I fight like hell for my patients."

"What about family?"

"Family?"

"Unless Don's forcin' ya ta be one 'a us." Pushing away from his Shell Cycle, Raphael took two strides towards Melody, his amber gaze critical as his large arms crossed.

"Does it matter?"

"'A course it does! Ya can't be part 'a family without desire."

"And acceptance from the members."

"Acceptance is earned."

"So"—every bit of Mel steeled like a statue—"can the acceptance be earned in helping Splinter?"

"I can't say for sure, but…it doesn't hurt ta try."

Did an insinuated message lie in that statement? Melody couldn't understand if the mutant was willing to give her a chance or was finding a means to play off her attempt. Would it work or wouldn't it? She stared fixedly while mulling over the idea—as the beginnings of Raphael's smirk died under a blanched expression.

"Let's be brusque. Are ya sorry for what ya made Leo go through?"

The cyborg flinched, answering, "Yes."

"Will ya help save my father?"

"Yes."

"Do ya love Don?"

"You know that answer."

"Fine. Then could ya pledge yerself ta this clan?" Tone serious, the hothead now stood before Melody's feet, looking up because of the pair's three inch difference. "Bein' a family means never givin' up an' watchin' each oddah's backs. We always protect, never betray, love, an' move heaven 'n earth when one 'a us is in danger. If ya can't handle that, then ya won't ever be a Hamato."

"And if I can handle it?" Mel challenged, chin raised.

"Then ya'll become something valued by more than just Donny."

Well, there was the long-awaited glimmer of hope. Eye contact didn't last long, yet Mel noted a tired willingness behind Raphael's amber eyes. She thought. As his head turned sideways, she considered asking about it; then determined it would be best to avoid his probable defensiveness.

"Ya ain't a sister ta me," Raphael started, remarkably controlled. "Ya ain't a friend, either. However, Sensei needs as many people on his side as possible. Donny says yer better at that biological stuff than he is, so…I'll watch how ya help him. An' for Don, I'll work with ya when needed."

"Likewise."

"Meanwhile, consider that pledge. Between now 'n later—when I'd accept it—it should mean something far different ta ya."

"Who says I need anything accepted by you?"

"Please,"—Raphael turned his pointed gaze on Melody's frown—"ta achieve what Don wants for ya, that's what it'll take. It needs ta be accepted by everyone. An' ya need ta mean it."

The thought was daunting, regardless of the positive headway Mel had made with Nia and Michelangelo so far. It must've showed on the cyborg's expression, too, since Raphael eased—more like he was annoyed with himself rather than with her. He could be confused. She sure was. And for a long while they remained silent, until the hothead draped a tarp over his motorcycle.

"Try yer damnest with Splinter, an' we'll see where this goes," he remarked over his shoulder.

Melody knew it was the best she would get and nodded. "His case is not hopeless."

"I'll hold ya ta that. Now…let's get back. Nia's probably upset I left."

The last line was grumbled as the mutant headed for the garage's exit, though Melody detected it easily. She lightly smirked at the idea of the black-haired female sending her boyfriend a look that could make him squirm like no one else. Then again, she understood that as well. And mentally prepared herself for the mountain of questions Donatello would unload once she returned to the Lair.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> There were so many feelings writing this chapter. I hope they translated. Next chapter will be posted Wednesday. Thanks for reading!


	9. Lone Hope

**Author's Notes:** Reviews! Thanks! It IS nice to have Mel and Raph willing to call a truce, isn't it? Now, this is the chapter before last. More Don/Mel time. ;)

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders and Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

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><p><strong>Chapter 09 - <strong>**Lone Hope**

Melody's deep voice resonated gently off Donatello's internal ears. To many others, her dull tone would seem to echo with the listlessness of a robot. But Don sensed more in it, especially when his black-clad girlfriend began pacing across the book-cluttered room they shared.

"Baker, how could you possibly ignore the guidelines? I would not be permitted." Melody paused by a lit desk riddled with open textbooks. "Yes, I could easily pass. However, it requires…I would not be—you mean the doctor from New Jersey? Doctor Olson? He knows…I—I…" Suddenly, the cyborg glanced at Donatello on the full-sized bed, her blue-gray eye round with surprise. "So…you could really do this? I could have one?"

Don rose when Mel reeled towards the desk. Her hip hit the low edge with a force that shook the coffee mugs on it, as well as displaced a few pencils. As the pencils feel then thumped against the area rug, she regained balance, her expression severe under her lover's concerned gaze.

"Yes, Sir. I…I will. Th—thank you. Goodbye."

"Well, that talk didn't go as expected," Donatello remarked while reclaiming his seat.

"And what did you expect?" Mel countered, inhaling deeply before joining him on the bed's edge.

"Guess I thought it would be another update on Sven and Tabitha, since they spend so much time at the hotel now."

"They have been better since their ions were discharged like mine."

"Hence my confusion. So what did Baker say?"

"Frankly?"

"Is there any other way with you?"

Melody flashed a smirk, though to most it would look more like a twitch at the corner of her full lips. "He wishes for me to run a clinic."

"A clinic?"

"Yes. He recently won the lottery and wishes to employ me by the time he has the office built into his hotel."

"You mean he actually _won_?"

Melody cocked her head, expression vacant. The genius took a moment to realize he had stood from the bed and leaned down before Melody, so their faces were even.

"Uh, a—anyway," he started, erecting himself. "H—how would you go about that? You would need a license, documented schooling."

"I know," replied Mel forthrightly. "Baker says Doctor Olson from the hospital in New Jersey has been keeping close tabs on Tabitha, Sven, and Kaiya. Since he knows of cyborgs, Baker believes I should talk with him."

"For what? Private tutoring?"

"In a way. All I must do is legally document my knowledge and experience. He is a registered doctor and thus a credible witness. I—I _could_ do it. I could get my medical license."

She sounded eager. Almost disbelieving as well—like the phone call had been a dream or cruel joke. Don couldn't stop a smile at the hope in her gaze, except a new thought weighed on him so heavily, he had to force his eyes elsewhere. He stepped to the table on Mel's bedside and fiddled with a stack of books on various cancers before saying,

"Schooling like that takes up a lot of time."

"Yet it can be applied directly to Splinter's situation."

"Only some parts. And you would have to be closer to Doctor Olsen."

"Are you jealous?"

Don frowned, glancing over his shoulder. "Seriously, Mel. It will take years. And where will you get the money for the school program?"

"Baker is considering me an investment."

"Ah…right."

"I will work it off once I gain my license, though."

"That will also take years."

"Which I do not mind since…since…"

"It's your dream. I—I know. But…"

He just got her back. While it sounded selfish when put into perspective, he couldn't help the dreadful feeling of separation nor the idea of losing her to such a heavy workload. In seconds, he held a new-found respect for how his clan felt when he would lock himself in the Lab for a long time, and the sting of shame hit him for every time he shut them out.

"I have assured Raphael I would do my best with your father," the cyborg noted to Don's turned back.

"And I'm thankful you no longer have glaring contests with one another. Still, it would be a lot of pressure if you took on schooling along with—"

"I can handle it." Snippy, Mel stood; Don sensed the action behind him. "Being a cyborg means I do not require as much rest, and a secured video feed would assure adequate face-time with Doctor Olson while I stay here. Any meetings can be arranged to ensure my change is not disclosed and…and this is not truly a matter of _how_, is it?"

The blonde's soft voice roused an unsteady sigh from the purple-masked Chūnin. "Y—you lose yourself, Mel," he whispered, rearranging the books to keep collected. "Like me. I…I'm sorry, but I can't afford that right now. I _need_ you to stand by me through Splinter's process—all of it. If you spread yourself too thin…I—I feel like I wouldn't be strong enough to keep face. So…"

He trailed off into a shuddering breath, which Melody cut short with a touch to his tense shoulder. "You fear I will abandon you?" she questioned, words lined by offence.

"Not on purpose."

"Donny!"

"Do you remember aiding Fry with his case of tetanus? Or Leopard's gout? How about the infected gunshot wound Frieda had in her shoulder? You said I could help you with each of those cases. I wanted to because you were already so focused on several other patients that you didn't sleep. And what happened?"

"Don—"

"I was pushed aside!" Don whipped his arms before him like he was slicing with katanas. He succeeded in toppling over the book stack and immediately crouched on weak knees to gather them from the concrete, his tone somber. "Splinter's case can't be like those. Please…"

"Would a certified doctor not be important to this family?" Melody added as the mutant's fingers clenched several loose papers.

"That's not my point."

"Then what is?"

The genius sighed. "Everyone is relying on us. While LH and April will help as well, options are extremely limited, and the degree of Sensei's cancer is frightening. It—it's a lot, knowing his life lies in our hands. We only get one shot, Melody, so we can't afford distractions."

"I would _never_ put your father secondary to my studies!" The cyborg's low voice seeped with more indigence than sadness and forced Don upright with the papers in hand.

"Can you promise it?" he countered through clenched teeth.

"Life has no grantees."

"But it _does_ have people who will do whatever it takes to keep their word. You're one of those people, Mel. So, can you promise it?"

Somehow, Donatello spoke sternly in spite of the wave of anxiety that washed over him during the conversation. His limbs did shake at the thought of Splinter's torment, but he had to ensure his pointed gaze remained fixed on his girlfriend, who steeled herself under the pain. The action wasn't meant to be dismissive or uncaring; the contemplative spark in her blue-gray eye meant the matter was being mulled over carefully. Obviously aware of her weakness for schooling, her reply came after a long delay and with a weak tone.

"I promise."

"I'll hold you fully accountable," Donny retorted with a half-felt smirk.

"I know you will. Like everybody else."

"Don't twist this around, okay? I didn't mean it like that. Besides, the others have started to forgive you. Shouldn't you be thinking a little brighter?"

"I have never been one for bright thoughts," the blonde noted flatly.

Don felt helpless against the confused ruffle of her brow like the matter were serious and stepped closer until her purple-speckled eye regarded him skeptically. "You're becoming a Hamato now, Mel. We think positive. We have to."

"Only an idealist would suggest such."

"Firstly, Miss Gray, I am a perfect blend of realism and idealism. Secondly, belief in my family has brought us a long way. It makes you feel lighter, too. Empowered. Willing. You should try it sometime."

"I did. When I believed you wouldn't reject me."

Immediate guilt struck the genius, rousing a cringe. But he maintained a smile under her deep frown and caressed a free hand over her hot cheek. "S—sometimes it does bring pain as well. You just have to work through it to find the brighter parts."

"Bright parts will be hard to find with what Splinter must endure…"

"Do you think working with him will bring up old wounds?"

"Probably."

Despite her dead tone, Don knew the point hit close to the cyborg's heart because her gaze lowered along with his hand. "It's going to be hard," he whispered. "To rid his body of so much cancer will be—"

"Virtually impossible without help."

"That's kinda what we're here for, Mel."

"I mean treatment-wise. Radiation is dangerous in the best environment. If there is a way to minimalist it and cleanse his body through other means, would that not be better?"

"You're talking about Recro-12." Don stepped back with pure rigidness, his wide mouth pursed as Melody's head shook.

"Recro-12 often failed due to an imbalance with the research stolen from Bishop to stabilize his cloned body."

"Y—you know that much of Bishop?"

"Only because of Lombardo's rants. His serum was based on IgR, apparently an alien antibody."

"Wait." The mutant met his lover's stare carefully. "Is that the same reason Bishop wanted Nia?"

"The IgRs are located inside of her, dormant. They are meant to heal and rejuvenate."

"Which is why Kaiya's body is now preserving her."

"Precisely. Lombardo was working with diluted samples and notes from an EPF doctor. It has promise. If we could find a means of stabilizing it, we could heal Splinter without means of radiation."

"Or risk losing him!"

"Donny!" Gaze wavering, the cyborg hicked. "Think how far along he is. Think of his condition and the stress of traditional treatment. He—he's on a similar road to my mother. It's a chance, yes, but it could be our only hope at the rate the cancer is spreading. H—his body…"

"Probably won't be able to take the radiation," Don finished glumly. He hated to admit it as truth, yet it was. So anger towards Mel's suggestion was suspended, his thoughts drifting. "If diluted samples are less stable then…we would have to ask for Nia's help."

Melody nodded.

"I don't like the thought of that. She's had bad experiences with Labs."

"As have I. Yet I keep working in one."

"Well, you're two very different people."

"Will you not ask her then?"

"How about we _both_ ask?"

"Fine."

No hesitation? Melody must've been absolutely sure in her thoughts, which lead Donatello to believe she had been considering the matter for days. '_How ironic is it that the research tested so viciously on other people winds up as the lone hope for Sensei? That just isn't right._'

"We'll talk to her in the morning," he drawled out.

"Okay. Now, can I have those papers?"

An edge of evasiveness had the mutant glancing through the papers in his hand. They were disheveled from the tight grip he held on them and crinkled crisply when he stretched them taunt for a better look under the low-watt ceiling fan. The large, black text at their tops read one gut-wrenching word, which now held a new meaning to Donatello: MISSING.

"Wh—where did you get these flyers?" he questioned tenderly.

Melody was quick to snatch them away and even quicker to fold them then stuff them into a medical text book on the desk. "From Baker's hotel."

"Why? Who are Abigail, Joseph, Chandler, and Donald anyway?"

"It's just something I must do with Leonardo when he returns, Damn Mechanic." Twisting, Mel regarded her lover coolly, as if to avoid the topic. Since the matter would likely stem into one of the young woman's infamous stubborn streaks, Don let it die, knowing well that patience would lead him to an answer eventually.

"Alright," he started, "so why don't we talk about the schooling instead? Did Baker say how soon he could help you get started?"

"He said I could work out further details with him once I thought about the matter."

"And what will you report back?"

"I wish to start ASAP, of course. And"—the blonde paused to send the mutant a timid glance—"that it cannot be my main focus."

Donny spared a smile when Melody headed for the unmade bed. It was a simple action, yet the light caught her features in a way that showcased all the strain she had endured over the past weeks. She had been stumbling through the days with his clan, trying to make heads or tails of the family life. And she had taken the first steps with all of them, save Splinter.

For someone like her, it was a hell of a load to endure—as apparent by the way she sighed into the pillows when her lithe form reclined against the gray sheets. Yet she piled on the pressure of heavy research as well, and emanated an undaunted air as her gaze rose to meet his.

"What?" she questioned.

"It's late; you're done with textbooks tonight," he noted while heading for the light switch.

In a heartbeat, the cyborg rose in bed, crying out, "I can do more!"

"We've been working through books for four days straight. Mikey's right; we'll go cross-eyed if we look at them any longer."

"That is highly improbable."

"Are you willing to risk it?"

"Could you stop me?"

Don chuckled at Melody's smirk across the room then switched the light off.

"I have night vision, you know."

"Guess the dark isn't what's gunna stop you."

The purple-masked Chūnin physically sensed his girlfriend reeling as he easily made his way towards her. His trained eyes adjusted to the darkness quicker than she could respond to his weight on the bed, which creaked at the sinking pressure of a mutant and cyborg. Mel flinched at the hand he snaked under her bare midriff to draw her against his plastron; then sucked in audible air as he pressed his mouth against the tender side of her pulsing neck. Admittedly, he found her lack of proper clothes easier to bear in private and couldn't ignore the skip of his heart when her warm thighs brushed his.

"I—I could easily pry out of this," the blonde mumbled into Don's ear.

The genius smiled, moving his head for access to the metal plates spreading above her right collar bone. "Question is, do you want to?" he replied huskily before placing a kiss on the bubbled lip along the metal's edge on her neck's crook. She quivered slightly at it, but more so at the trail of kisses he left from there down to the collarbone piece.

"I wish you never found that weakness."

She didn't mean her words in the least; her hands too readily wrapped around his jaw as if to guide him through the next motions—though he already knew where his lips would bring him. She needed this break as much as he did. And he planned to ignite her tender creases of metal and flesh with his desire.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> Little hot in here, LOL. Those two. Next chapter we get some closure with Splinter and Melody. :D


	10. Sunset Tea

**Author's Notes: **Thus we have reached the end. I have an announcement, so read the AN at the end. For this moment, enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders and Melody Gray belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.

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><p><strong>Chapter 10 - <strong>**Sunset Tea**

Donatello was gone by the time Melody awoke. It wasn't terribly surprising, given his insistence of her 'rest', so she knew not to look for him in the dark, still space. Instead, she calmly slipped out of the wild sheets and gathered her clothes without help of a light. The pleasing aches through her body as she did so quickened her heart because of memories from last night, and they reminded her how much she craved—needed—the mutant's essence to keep from falling apart. January had passed agonizingly slow, but with him guiding her through the steps, she found it easier to speak with his family—even if their talks rarely ended well.

'_On that note, he will want me to speak with Splinter next_,' she thought while opening the bedroom door. '_Perhaps it would be best to iron our standing before he trusts me with his life…_'

What a souring thought. Sans Donatello's near-death experience, the only medical case to bring Melody so much anxiety was her mother's. Don was right; the similarities roused bitter memories—ones of pasty features riddled with deep wrinkles, warts, and blistered skin; of coarse wiry hair, so brittle it was a wonder it grew to her wide chin; and of deep sunken eyes, thin and shaded by pain yet so confident in what they saw: Melody. She recalled the disbelief of hearing her mother's last breath and the long-standing anger that delved her into street fighting. So much of her past had been filled with loss.

Not this time.

"Kuso!" a scratchy voice hissed.

It drew up Melody's head when her boots clicked against the cement at the stair's base. She spotted a tuff of gray fur obscured by the brick kitchen's archway, which shifted closer to the ground with a long groan. Several long strides placed Mel behind Splinter as he tenderly rubbed his thin wrist and she instinctively claimed the fallen broom and dust pan beside him.

"Was this a whole tea pot?" she questioned, mindful of the bright porcelain pieces scattered at the old master's feet.

Splinter motioned to regain the broom, but the cyborg had already gathered the glass and firmly pushed him backwards. "One of my favorites," the rat grimly noted.

"Did you have a spasm?"

"It weighed so little."

"The weight is not what matters; the motion does. You should be particular in the activities you partake in. If you are not aware of your limitations then the damage could—"

"I am _always_ aware, Gray-san—especially of my limitations."

Why the sudden snap? Melody raised her vision from her squat, pausing the sweep up of glass. Splinter's short form regarded her with steeled dark eyes. But after a moment they eased, his head shaking as he claimed his fallen staff by the stove.

"Forgive me, Gray-san. I know you mean well."

Did he? Mel highly doubted so. Unless some unnoticed emotion shined through her voice. Silent, she turned back to the mess, swept the remainder of the porcelain into the dust pan, and then headed for the tall trashcan located by the fridge. One last run over ensured any smaller bits were displaced and by that time, Splinter stood steady with his paws on his gnarled cane.

"Gray-san," he started when their gazes connected.

"Call me Melody," she interjected coolly. "I already have enough reminders of my mother."

"Very well, Melody-san. Would you have a seat with me? The others took Nia Topside to watch the sunset and I find myself craving company."

Melody blinked, watching Splinter take a seat at the dining room table. "Sunset?"

He nodded. "You must have been more exhausted than you thought; you slept all day."

"And the Damn Mechanic didn't wake me up," she grumbled with a twitch. Splinter chuckled lightly as she joined him, but it quickly led into a coughing fit.

"You have been through much shock recently," the short mutant added once his lungs settled. "Entering a family on top of it all is bound to wear one out."

"I…I have not entered any such thing."

"Nonsense. The process has started and will come to fruition in time."

"You cannot possibly predict such."

"Of course I can."

"How? Motives and options evolve from day to day. You have no idea what will happen with us."

"Even so, I know the true characters of my children. And now, I am coming to understand our latest addition. In this knowledge, I am certain our family will grow with you."

"Don't you hate me?" The blunt question wouldn't remain at bay any longer, especially under Splinter' calm demeanor. Mel no longer felt an urge to run, but she gave into the burn that drew her fists together on the tabletop.

"I cannot bring myself to hate you, Melody-san," the rat said.

Whether or not he meant it genuinely or obsequiously was uncertain, so the cyborg narrowed her eye. "Don's told me likewise. His reason is because he loves me. What's yours?"

"I have seen my fair share of pain in my life, young one. Pain of sickness. Pain of lost love. Pain of vengeance. Pain of jealousy. It prompts others to do despicable things, often times in a kamikaze attempt to ease it. How could I mistake the wounded eyes of a girl who has seen an equal or greater amount of pain?"

"Y—you mean me?" Mel's throat clenched at Splinter's light smile.

"You read deeper than you feel you do, Melody-san. And you know what else I sense? Your anger and confusion. You do not understand how one cannot hate when wronged. To think you have gone all these years of your life holding onto rage, resenting outsiders of the homeless realm. Without it, you do not know where to stand, do you?"

Beside Donatello: that's the answer she wanted to give. But she couldn't find her voice at the prickling swell in her eye.

"Rage is a continuous fire, child," continued Splinter, softer. "It will always burn. If you let that subside, though, douse it with love, you will find a far more rewarding life. To share yourself with others does not mean you become all they expect; it means they will support everything that you are. Because sometimes we are not strong enough to stand on our own."

"S—so why send away Leonardo? I…I hear all these things of sticking together and watching each other's backs, but…"

Splinter frowned before the cyborg dropped her head onto the table. "You are not solely responsible."

"But I am part."

"…Yes." Sighing, the master shifted. "Leonardo's foundation of belief has been shaken. He has lost himself not just as leader, but as a person. And everything in this city reminds him of his fall. Yes, he cannot stand on his own. However, we can no longer lift him up, either.

He needs a change. He needs to find the lost pieces of himself without the influence of his family because we would only enable him. As heartbreaking as it is to send him to South America, he needs time for himself. Otherwise, his mind would only rot in the Lair."

"Did his fall…start before me?"

"Yes."

The cyborg couldn't stop her sigh of relief; so when it left, she straightened, facing Splinter with a wave of new tears.

"It is quite alright, Melody-san. It must be a burden off your shoulders."

"May I ask where his fall started?"

"With the troubles in July, when they failed to save the lives of a young woman and her son from Purple Dragons."

"Bastards." Melody hissed before she realized it, and unclenched her fists at the mutant's grim nod. "Donatello explained to me his reason for…for denying me in August was the fear brought by that incident. He left it vague, however."

"It is a painful reminder for my sons," Splinter noted morosely. "One they can't seem to escape. The mother's two daughters, Miriam and Jezebel, helped Michelangelo the same night you saved Nia. But Miriam has since learned the truth of that night. She lost herself to vengeance and while Hugh's friends recovered her from Hun's clutches, she is now in an institute. Filled with so much rage."

"Now they must live with knowing their failure to save her family has led Miriam to madness."

"It was _not_ their fault." Words sharp, the wizened rat squared his shoulders, raising his scraggly chin.

"They can be part of the cause and not at fault, correct?"

Of course. Otherwise, his whole defense he built around her guilt over Leonardo would crumble. Splinter sensed it, too, because he reeled a second then grinned.

"There is much healing to be done, Melody-san—on everyone's part. And to recover as a family will require your strength as well."

The idea sounded ludicrous, and she let the thought play on her features.

"You are to help me with my cancer, right? Is not part of a doctor's role to lend strength?"

"You don't feel nervous about my involvement?"

"More so at the long journey that lies ahead. If I am to be honest, I am thankful for you. Donatello ensures me you are one of the finest medical minds he has ever dealt with and knowing you are on my side gives me great comfort."

Melody didn't know when the tears started; she only knew they streamed down her cheek when they dripped from her chin. She shook, thinking of how similarly her mother spoke to her. And she hitched, finding a sense of relief in the rat's wide smile. The moment was broken by the shifting of levers and gears as the Lair's entrance opened, which revealed four unique figures dressed in winter attire.

"The spider isn't coming back, Raph," Nia said blandly between her boyfriend and Donatello.

"Ya left it on the bend back there, didn't ya?" Raphael countered with an accusing finger directed behind.

"Hey, watch where you point that thing!" Michelangelo injected shrilly. He swatted away the hothead's hand then rounded the group by cartwheeling.

"It's probably already made its way back!"

"Seriously, Dude. The spider was the size of Nia's fingernail."

"An' it's got friends!"

"At least you know how to get payback when need's be," Don remarked.

Raphael spun to meet the genius' nonchalant grin. "With all yer high-tech gear, ya can't keep spiders out 'a the Lair?"

"Oh, sure. I'll just drop my work on advanced security features, the facial recognition program, trackers—wait." Don paused then stepped back as his brown eyes grew wide beside his mask. "Oh, shit, the trackers!"

"What trackers?" Michelangelo questioned, halting at the table.

"The ones we were using to make a grid. Ah, man, I forgot about them completely."

"Oh, _those_ trackers. Yeah, they're still Topside, aren't they?"

Melody found Don's thrown back head funny. Her lips twitched as she dried her tears and stood, but when he repeatedly beat his forehead with his palm, she outright chuckled. He worried about the smallest of things and prided himself on being an excellent multitasker. And he forgets something as simple as a few trackers?

"Oh, wow, she laughs!"

Michelangelo's exclamation silenced Melody too late; she snorted twice before catching herself and the flabbergasted group was rewarded with a death glare. Don was the first to smile. Then Mikey. The two meandered to her side as Raphael fought amusement he clearly shared with Nia.

At least, it should be amusement. They looked chipper.

"Did you sleep well?" Donny asked. Mel thought she sensed a smirk behind his smile, but maybe that was her influence.

"Why did you not wake me?" she retorted, monotonous now that the intimate air between her and Splinter had dissipated.

"I tried. You smacked me."

The cyborg quirked a brow. "Really?"

"Got the bruise under my chin to prove it."

"How would I know I inflicted it?"

"It's in the shape of your fist."

"A fist is not terribly descriptive."

"It is when it's a cyborg one with notable knuckle shields."

"Maybe you should be quicker then."

Donatello deadpanned as the others sniggered around the couple. Their lighthearted air swelled Melody's chest with an emotion she couldn't quite explain, and meeting their glances threatened her composure. She dwelled on Splinter's warm countenance before averting her gaze, drawing it to Michelangelo.

The orange-clad mutant stripped himself of his coat while heading for the couch, his arms raised high. "Who's up for a movie?"

"Mikey, we need to—"

Mel raised a robotic hand to stop her lover midstride. "You wanted me to rest, so we will all rest," she said under her breath when Raphael quickly followed his youngest brother. "You spoke to Nia about IgR?"

Stiffly, Don nodded and studied Nia just as the artist turned on her heel. "She says she wants to help in any way she can."

"Then we start research tomorrow, let Splinter know of it."

"You seem pretty relaxed. Did you have a good talk with Splinter?"

The cyborg cocked her head, though her gaze drifted to Splinter, who had moved with Nia into the kitchen. "Who says we talked?"

"I know you better than that."

Slowly, Mel let a smile grow. "Yes…you do."

"So does this mean you've worked past what happened with Leo?"

Melody lowered her gaze to a teapot Nia took from Splinter, so she could fill it and place it on the stovetop. "In a way. You know…your family is not nearly as bad as the complaints you have told me over the years."

"Oh, just wait," Don countered with short laugh. "The annoying parts come later. Trust me. So. Do you want to pick out the movie?"

"No, I would rather help Splinter with the tea."

Donatello didn't reply. Then again, his loving gaze when she faced him already told her how happy he was. Did the happiness stem from her helping? Her talking with Splinter? Or her simply being there? She was unable to tell.

But the reason mattered little; her reward still came in a short yet deep kiss that held more passion than the day before.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> I hope you enjoyed this little story. It was quaint yet important for the clan - especially Mel. And I enjoyed being able to show you a little more of her side. For future reference, my mini-books will be just as vital to the overall story-line as the 'big' ones, so...be sure to check out everything (if you can). :P

That said, I have plans.

It won't be a month before I post again. HOPEFULLY. I plan to release a Valentine's Day special from Feb 8-14 (one chapter for each day). There's also a side project I've been working on that I may start posting. That is up to my whim, however. What ISN'T in the wind is the next mini-book, "Cause Worth Celebrating", which is to be posted throughout March. It will be a Raph/Nia centric story involving the guy's Mutation Day and the next step in their relationship.

"_The boys' Mutation Day is on the 19th, yet none of them see what the big fuss is in the age of twenty-four. It's nothing special and with their brother away, what would be the point? Even so, Nia is determined to throw them a wonderful party. Will her good intentions turn array? Or will Raphael find there's a cause worse celebrating after all?_"

I want to thank everyone who reviewed. You guys are the BEST. Without your love, I wouldn't post at all, so thanks. :D

Until next time!


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